Life Serial Revisited
by Tiana1
Summary: Set Season 6, during the ep Life Serial. Picks up when Buffy leaves the Magic Box after her failed afternoon as a sales clerk. What really happens with Spike and Buffy before and after they start drinking together? Ch. 11 up!
1. Chapter 1: Escape

*****  
  
Title: Life Serial Revisited  
  
Author: Tiana  
  
Feedback: I LOVE feedback. Please, send any and all to: tianabelle@hotmail.com or review on the site here. Thanks!  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to Spike, Buffy or any other BTVS characters. Damn it.  
  
Distribution: Just ask at tianabelle@hotmail.com.   
  
Summary: Set Season 6, during the ep Life Serial. Picks up when Buffy leaves the Magic Box after her failed afternoon as a sales clerk. What really happens with Spike and Buffy before and after they start drinking together? Her take on what should have been a fun evening…  
  
Rating: R (For now) for nudity and drinking and stuff.   
  
*****  
  
Chapter 1: Escape  
  
*****  
  
I slam my way out of the Magic Box, smiling in grim satisfaction as the door rattles on its hinges. Slayer strength comes in handy when you are storming out on a job as well as with the more common demon-killing tasks. Truth be told, I would have liked to rip the door off its hinges and smash it to bits in frustration, but then I would never hear the end of it from Anya and Giles. All sorts of lectures on responsibility and payment plans. I grin while imagining the shocked looks on their faces though, and it puts a slight bounce in my step. The grin fades quickly as I remember the special circle of retail hell I just escaped. Could a few more weird things happen to me today? I am not meant to sell things with a fake smile and wave. Oh no. I was chosen to kick demon ass, not try to sell demon…ass. Or other demon parts. Speaking of demons, I realize that I have automatically directed my huffy departure from the Magic Box directly toward his cemetery. And his crypt. And by him, I only mean one particular member of the undead. Spike.   
  
Whoa, nelly. What's that all about? My face scrunches up as I pull myself to a stop just across the street from the cemetery. Rather than head home, I was really heading for Spike's dusty musty crypt. Well, that doesn't make sense. I cock my head and look up at the late afternoon sun. Why would I head there now - he's not even awake yet. I better wait a bit before I storm in on the annoying undead. I spin on my heel and head towards home, that bounce returning to my step at the thought.  
  
An hour later, I walk down the street, periodically almost breaking into a run. I changed into jeans for comfort and to distance myself from my afternoon – or several afternoons as it seemed to me – at the Magic Box. Squinting at the sun low in the sky, my thoughts turn to him. He could be up by now… The thought of waiting any longer does not even occur. I had already spent the last hour pacing through the house, thankful that Dawn was participating in a sleepover at Janice's. Better to avoid the inevitable "Are you okay?" and "How are you feeling?", which were fast becoming my least favorite questions in the world. No, I am not okay. I died, I went to heaven and now I'm back, doing laundry and paying bills and generally feeling like curling up in a ball to cry for a good long while. Not that I can tell anyone that. Well, except Spike. Why Spike is something I do not consider. That way leads to confusion. The most comfortable reason is that he doesn't really count. Just a vampire, not a friend. And yet, I'm heading his way after my terrible day, counting on him to cheer me up. Spike. To cheer me up. I shake my head with a rueful laugh. My return to life has truly been a weird weird trip.   
  
I find myself suddenly in front of Spike's crypt. I raise my fist to knock, but catch myself. Please. Like I knock. I do decide not to kick the creaky metal door open for some reason. Growing respect for his home? Nah. It's just that…well, these shoes are new. And that door is very dirty. Instead, I gently push on the door, opening it just enough to let myself slip in. Closing the door behind me, I find myself in near darkness, though really it is just that it takes my eyes a few seconds to start adjusting. The crypt is lit with a soft orange glow from the dropping sun. As I start to be able to see a bit more, I look around the upstairs of the crypt. Empty chair, television off. Hmm. No Spike. I take a few steps toward the ladder and the heels of my snazzy new shoes click clack, the sound bouncing off the cold concrete walls. I freeze, amazed at how loud the sound seems. I lean down, slipping them off and putting them aside by the door. As my hands release them, I hesitate. What the hell am I doing? All the times I've barged in, loud as you please, run through my mind. And Spike's reaction to those times also plays. Right pissed. And for my own reasons, I would really like him to be in a good mood when he sees me tonight. I want…well, I just want that. Won't be in much of a mood to make me feel better if I piss him off just coming in.   
  
A small sigh escaping me, I slip across the room on bare feet without a sound. I reach the ladder and look down, listening for…what? He doesn't breathe, Buffy. Wondering once again at how just how out of sorts I am from my day, I put one foot on the top step of the ladder, and then the next. With quick, quiet movements, I find myself on the floor of his new bedroom space. While I have not admitted it to Spike, I really like the space he has created down here. It's…cozy. Oh god, if he heard me say that...I'd never hear the end of it. Truth be told, it fits him and somehow, it fits me, too. Not that I plan on telling that truth anytime soon. I pull myself out of my thoughts, somewhere I have been spending an awful lot of time lately, to find Spike. It doesn't take long. My sharp intake of breath is fully audible in the dim space.   
  
Spike.  
  
Sleeping.   
  
Naked.  
  
Now, that I was not expecting. I put my hand to my mouth, trying too late to stifle the gasp I let slip. The thoughts that fly through my mind bring a pink flush to my cheeks, I'm sure of it. Most of them are thoughts I don't usually allow myself to have around the blond vamp, but they come blazing into my conscious mind at the sight of this much skin. I'm completely frozen. If he wakes up now, I will be mortified. But if I try to get back up the ladder, I can just imagine him waking up and again, mortification. While my brain peels from one thought to another at breakneck speed, my eyes get themselves busy cataloging the scene laid out in front of me.  
  
First off, I can't be sure he's completely naked. But it sure as hell seems likely. Sprawled out in a deathlike (very deathlike, in fact) slumber, Spike is uncovered from head to low, low on his hips. The sheet just catches on his suddenly tempting left hipbone, preventing full disclosure to my wide eyes. But there is much too much skin showing for me to think he is wearing anything below that sheet. Spike has never struck me as the kind who bothers with undergarments and now I have confirmation. My eyes travel up from the line of the sheet, focusing on the incredible washboard abs I suspected were hidden under that black t-shirt all these years. Hard, ripped and mesmerizing. All those times I punched, kicked or tossed him across a dark cemetery, I felt these muscles, but seeing his taut pale skin stretched across them gives me a strange flutter lower down my own body than I am altogether comfortable with. His chest, his arms are equally impressive. Smooth and making my fingers twitch , wondering what it would be like to just feel that skin. Run over it with light fingertips. Without him knowing, of course.   
  
Not that I would. Of course.   
  
I finally close my gaping mouth, trying to rein in my suddenly very alert body. It's just Spike. Evil, snarky Spike who is nothing more than a pain in my ass. Only that's not all he is anymore. That's just the convenient definition I've been clinging to with both hands ever since I found out the rest. The way he looked after Dawnie for months with no end in sight, with me buried six feet under, the way he kept the promise he made to me in the only form he could after the battle. And now, the way he listens quietly when I come and spill forth with random chatter, using the words to mask the pain that is eating away at me. He never presses for more, he just listens, nods. Every once in awhile, when he thinks I won't notice, in moments of distraction, he gently pats my back or my arm, brushes his hand over my hair. So that I know he understands, that I am not alone. And I do notice, no matter how distracted. My skin tingles for an hour afterwards where he touched me.   
  
When I get around to the real topic, when I mention the peace I felt in heaven, his eyes go incredibly soft and blue like…well, I haven't figured out what that blue is, but it makes me feel like sliding into his arms and holding on for dear life. Only I don't. Because he's Spike. Spike, who never asks "Are you okay?" because he knows full well I am not. No, he just waves me inside when I appear, okay, crash through his door with no explanation. Sits quietly while I talk. And even more so, he sits with me while I don't talk. When I escape into his home and just perch silently, he lets me. Doesn't bother me, doesn't demand conversation or anything else. He lets me fight for that sense of peace that I never find during the daylight hours. While I cannot admit it, I find it near him in the nighttime. I don't know quite why, but he brings me peace. He brings my swirling thoughts to a gentle calm.   
  
I find myself looking on his relaxed form with new eyes. Not borderline lust, but something else. Tenderness? Part of me wishes I could sleep like that. Dead to the world. In his case, literally. Another part of me, a part that is really freaking me out, wants to crawl in the bed and try it. See if I can sleep with him there, see if his effect on me could work this way, satisfy my craving for a good night's sleep. One not filled with nightmares of digging out of the ground or aching reminders of what I've lost. Another tiny quiet part of me I am studiously ignoring wants to get in the bed for reasons not at all wholesome and pure.   
  
I cock my head, studying his face in sleep. Angelic really, which is highly ironic. And not like Angel, but like angels. His cheekbones are still pronounced and sharp, giving him a predatory look. But his mouth, soft and full, makes me want to reach my fingers out again and just see if it is really as soft as it looks. I run my eyes over the features I know very well, but never really study. It strikes me in one sharp thunderclap that he is absolutely fucking gorgeous. For years, his smart mouth, his evil nature and oh, his attempts at killing me, made it hard to look at him that way. But now. Now he is my…friend? The word sounds weird bouncing around in my head. Is he? I shake my head, almost imperceptibly. Decide that later. Look now, while I still can. Even that shocking white blond hair looks delicious. All rumpled and curly, a look he usually erases before I see him. Slicked back and straightened, it suits his attitude more. But this look is positively adorable.   
  
I freeze. Did I just refer to Spike as adorable? I have to get out of here. The day has obviously fried my brain. I look around, wondering how I am going to get out of this one.  
  
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I lie very very still. Pretty easy for a guy who doesn't breathe. I've known she was there since she entered the crypt. Between the fact that it is almost time for me to wake up and the delicious jasmine lotion she wears, she had no chance of sneaking up on me. For whatever reason, I decided to see what she would do, figuring she would just yell at me to get my 'undead ass' upstairs. Only she didn't. She didn't even slam the door open like usual. Made me really bloody curious. Heard her take off her shoes and pad barefoot across the upper floor. Trying to sneak up on me? But why? Then her scent washed over me as she descended the ladder. If she had looked right then, she would have seen my entire body tense up for just a moment. I know she is standing no more than ten feet away and…what? Not moving an inch. All I can figure is that she is watching me. Waiting for me to wake up, maybe? But why not just yell for me to wake up like she usually would? I can wait the Slayer out. I stay still as full minutes pass. Right when I decide it may be easier to start pretending to wake up, she moves. I can hear it, both her feet moving and her heart racing at a furious pace.  
  
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I take one step back toward the ladder, thinking I could maybe be quiet enough to get up a few steps and then yell to wake Spike up. Then, he would think I just arrived and not know I had been ogling him for the last few minutes. I put one hand to my cheek and realize how hot it is. I nearly moan as I realize I must be blushing bright red. Maybe he won't notice in the dim light down here. I glance over my shoulder as I put one step on the ladder and notice he still hasn't moved. Talk about sleeping like the dead! I could have staked him three times by now! I really could have. In fact, anyone could have. Maybe something is wrong with him. That thought had not occurred to me until just now. Of course, he's a vampire, so the list of ailments is pretty short. Still, I should check.  
  
I congratulate myself for the logical explanation I have deduced for moving closer to Spike's sleeping form. It's not that I want to see him up close and maybe touch him. I'm merely concerned for his well-being. At the side of the bed, I frown. Still nothing, not a twitch. But, if possible, he is more perfect to look at up close than he was from across the room. Expanses of skin begging for hands. Speaking of hands, one is thrown across his stomach, the other lying open on the bed. Eyes darting from his face to that hand, I start to inch my hand towards it. It's research. Yeah, vampire research. I want to see if…if he gets colder while he's sleeping. That would be good to know. Um, for some very good reason I will come up with later… I notice that my fingers are trembling just a little as they get closer to his. It' s not like I've never touched him before. Just not when there was quite so much skin available for the touching. And not when I wasn't trying to kick his undead butt. Steeling myself, glancing one more time at his face, I let my fingers graze the skin on the inside of his hand. His hand twitches and I nearly jump out of my skin. Oh god, oh god, I am going to get so caught. Like the kid who has just broken into the cookie jar, I can't help but go back for seconds. I drag one finger across and up his index finger. Smooth and cool, like I expected. Not being able to stop touching him, not something I expected. And then...suddenly, my hand is caught in a tight grip. His. Eyes threatening to bug out of my head, I look up to meet a sparkling blue gaze, wide awake and clearly amused.   
  
I am so busted.   
  
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Author's Note: Taking a short break from my looooong WIP, Shot in the Dark, to work on this little fic. Feedback is such a treat! Thanks! -Tiana 


	2. Chapter 2: Sips or Shots?

*****  
  
Chapter 2: Sips or Shots?  
  
*****  
  
"Evenin', pet." His face is alight with a purely aggravating expression, that smirk just…just sitting there smirking at me! He knows he caught me doing something completely outside the Buffy rules. Dammit.   
  
"Uhh, umm. Hi. I thought you were… I came in and you weren't…and then with the not moving…and uhm." I stop, take a breath. "Sorry I woke you up." I bite my tongue to keep from saying 'before I got to touch the rest of you.' Shut up, shut up, Buffy! The flush that had been fading rushes up my face like wildfire as I pray Spike won't notice.  
  
He notices. And all of a sudden, we both notice that he is still holding my hand. Both our sets of eyes lock onto our clasped hands, mine trapped in Spike's. I feel a tingle run clear up my arm at the solid grip he has on me. He meets my look and seems to close off those soft blue eyes… ACK. No, annoying blue eyes. But good grief, have they always been quite that blue?  
  
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The Slayer smells like heaven and feels even better. Her little hand caught in mine, skin warm and smooth. I can feel her pulse against my fingers, thrumming double-time. She is nearly fluttering all over, trying to escape the truth of what she was doing, trying to figure out how to get that hand away from me. But I caught her and I'm not letting her off so quickly. I know full well she was standing there looking at me half, alright, fully naked and then dancing those fingers across my palm. Nearly bloody strained something not yanking her into the bed on top of me and showing her how good it felt. She could have staked me for laying my hands on her Chosen self, but damn, it might have been worth it to feel her warm body all against mine. Her eyes are wide, fear and something else flashing in those hazels. So damn beautiful. For some reason I can't figure, gettin' soft or something, I find myself taking pity on her and slowly releasing her hand. Must be something I see in those eyes. Also, little worried the bint will figure out I am as much affected by touching her as she is by touching me. She knows full well I still love her, or at least she should, but I'm not going to blurt it out just so she'll hold my hand a bit longer. I'm still fighting full bleedin' poofdom. As always lately, I strain for nonchalance, trying not to spook her into not visiting me. Would be more fun to tease her further, but I'll hold off. Maybe later. "Thought you were a baddie, here to give me some trouble." She doesn't know that I was awake this whole time and I'm going to keep it that way for now. If she knows that I know, she will drop that old familiar wall down between us, the one I hated before she was gone. And I don't even want to admit how much I don't want that. Not even to myself and definitely not to her. Having her come to me nearly every night is too much to risk.  
  
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"No, no. No trouble, no giving. Just…whoa! Sheet!" I spin around, and my cheeks heat up like they are on fire. He started sitting up - and that sheet slid lower - and damn. I almost got a helluva view. Stupid to act so modest so quickly, curse my quick reflexes. I mentally slap myself for that thought. 'Cause the top half looked lickable and I…argh. Time to derail that train of thought before it takes me somewhere very forbidden.   
  
"S'alright, luv. I'm still decent. Well, you know…covered. Hold on, let me get dressed."   
  
"O-okay. Should I go up…?" I close my eyes tight, trying to swallow my embarrassment as well as the surging interest in turning back around and seeing just how 'decent' he is. I bite my tongue before I can say 'ah-ha! I knew you were naked!' That sure wouldn't help with the whole keeping it a secret that I was checking you out.   
  
"Nah. 'm not shy, Slayer. If you're feeling a bit nervous 'bout being down in a dark crypt with a naked vampire, well… well, I guess you wouldn't have come down here in the first place, now would you?" Damn that Spike. He can't keep the pleasure out of his voice, that teasing tone. At least he doesn't know I was staring at him slack jawed before I made the stupid decision to touch him. No, he just thinks…well, what does he think? He should really be giving me a much harder time than this for pawing at him while he was sleeping. I deserve even more teasing, and I let him do it for now without punching him into something hard, like a tree.   
  
"Ha Ha, Spike. Just get dressed." I cast my eyes upwards, thanking whoever is listening that he can't see my face at the moment. Glancing around, I curse the fact that he doesn't have any mirrors. Duh, Buffy. Even if he did, I wouldn't get to see anything except my own reflection. Besides, I'm only curious. Spike turns out to have a hell of a body and I'm just a curious girl. Yep, cur-i-ous. I jump at least a foot in the air when a hand comes to rest on my shoulder. A soft cool hand that seems to linger lightly on my shoulder until I can almost feel it through the fabric. Shut UP, Buffy.   
  
"Hello, anyone home? I said, I'm dressed, luv." Spike's voice is thick and sweet, and the implication is plain that this being dressed thing doesn't have to be permanent. Since I know he doesn't wear underwear, I also know that I am separated from the scene I just witnessed by one layer of clothing. My ears burn as I try very hard to get mad at him, but he didn't actually say anything wrong and I just end up feeling hot all over. And not in a mad way. I swallow hard, regaining a sense of control as I turn and see Spike in his normal outfit: black t-shirt and black jeans. Only I can't help but look a little harder at that shirt, catching hints of what I saw laid bare mere moments ago. And at those tight jeans and the view I was not given. Not to mention trying very hard not to think of how it made me feel, how it makes me feel even now.   
  
"Oh. Uh, good. About time." His eyes positively dance in that face of his, playful and sexy. And not sexy! I did not say sexy. And oh, he's looking at me now like I've lost my mind 'cause I'm just standing here staring at him. "I thought you were going to sleep the night away or something." Oh jeez. Why don't I just admit that I was here longer than he knew? That I was giving him the once-over? Okay, the twice, uh, the threetimes-over.   
  
"How's that, Slayer? Been here long?" Spike's arms slowly cross over his chest as he looks down at me, eyebrow raised in infuriating fashion. Could he ever just miss what I say? Instead of coming up with an appropriately snappy and full denial-like comment, I end up fascinated by the definition of his arm muscles, biceps bulging through that black t-shirt. Why didn't I ever really notice this before? Now what was I doing… oh, right. A reply…a good one to convince him I wasn't here for very long.  
  
"Nuh-uh. I just got here." Oh yeah, that should do it. He'll never see through that web of cleverness. I fight the need to roll my eyes and smack myself on the forehead. I brace myself for the renewed teasing. And then he does something surprising.  
  
He changes the subject.  
  
"So, what does bring you to my humble abode this evening, Slayer?" Spike's voice softens slightly. He's being nice to me again. Sneaky bastard.   
  
"Just…um…visiting. But if you're busy, I can go…" I make a half-hearted move towards the ladder, hoping and praying he will…  
  
"Not busy. Thirsty, though. Wanna drink?" He moves toward the half-full carafe on his dresser, already assuming my answer. Which is always no. Until…   
  
"Oh hell yes." I have to bite my lip to not laugh out loud at the expression on his face as he turns back to me. His eyebrows shoot so high on his forehead, I catch myself wondering if you can strain an eyebrow muscle. Or is it really a muscle? Oh, damn. I don't care. The point is, he's really surprised. He always asks, I always say no. It's one of our things. Only I could really go for a drink after the day I've had. People always say that can help when you've got troubles, and you can just color me troubled.   
  
He hesitates in mid-stride, but recovers quickly from his shock. "Don't have anything fancy with little umbrellas, Buffy. Just bourbon."   
  
"Okay." I see another flicker of surprise cross his face as he takes the carafe from the dresser.   
  
He gives me a quick once-over. Probably trying to figure out what I am thinking, why the sudden change. I'd swear he looks concerned, too. Which shouldn't surprise me so much. I have to admit that Spike has become different around me and yet, in so many ways, still the same. Still snarky and annoying. It's part of why I come to him. He doesn't wear kid gloves, but he does show concern. In his own Spike way.  
  
"Sips or shots?" I hesitate, figuring out what he means. Considering how little I ever drink, I know I won't be able to stand the taste of the bourbon. Shots it is, then. Fast and dirty. I should really not say dirty with the state of my mind at the moment. Only, wait, I don't know how to drink a shot. Beer didn't go well for me and I never moved up.   
  
"Shots." My voice injects a question into the word and I see Spike pause before reaching into his top drawer and withdrawing two shot glasses.   
  
"Sure about that, Slayer? Ever had a shot?" Am I wearing a sign on my forehead that simply transmits my thoughts to him? He always knows what I'm thinking, what I'm worried about.   
  
"Oh yeah. Lotsa shots. Tons.. uh, no." There's really no point in trying to lie. He'll figure it out if I try to take one and then spray the bourbon all over his face. Though that would be a funny sight. I turn my head a little to the side and look up at him. Dear god, am I flirting?? "Wanna teach me?" Holy crap. I am flirting.   
  
I see Spike swallow, adam's apple bobbing. I think the flirting is having an immediate effect and I am torn between being thrilled and screaming 'what the holy hell are you up to, Miss Buffy!?' I go with the first one.  
  
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Does the Slayer know what she is doing? Does she have any bleedin' idea what she does to me with a bat of those eyelashes? I am so whipped by her and she doesn't even know it. And now, with the drinking? She doesn't drink. I suppose some people would discourage her from starting, but I'm not her conscience, I'm a vampire and I like the sound of it. She's come so close in the last few weeks to speaking the truth for more than a few seconds at a time. And the ability of liquor to loosen the tongue cannot be denied. I should try not to think about tongues…'cause there's hers. Bloody fucking hell. She is going to be the end of me one of these days.   
  
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Spike is squirming as I lick my bottom lip, his eyes locked on it. I should not be enjoying this. I should not even be doing this. I should not…  
  
"So, how do we start?" But I am.   
  
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Author's Note: Thanks for these great and very specific reviews! So so helpful to hear what parts work for people. Enjoy this next chapter and keep those reviews comin'! -Tiana 


	3. Chapter 3: Smirk

*****  
  
Chapter 3: Smirk  
  
*****  
  
Spike's smirk is stuck on his face, I've decided. He can't get over the new and improved Buffy tonight. I'm tired of being down in the dumps all the time. Yeah, my day sucked beyond the telling, what else is new? Time for some fun and it turns out Spike is my first choice to join in the having of that fun. Go figure.  
  
Spike hasn't answered me yet. He is just standing there with the bottle and glasses.  
  
"Hello? Spike?" I walk over to him and wave my hands in front of his eyes. Suddenly he snaps out of it, refocusing those dangerously blue eyes right on mine. Gulp.  
  
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It's a damn good thing vampires don't blush. Or at least, I don't. Never thought 'bout whether we could. Point is, it's also a damn good thing the Slayer's powers do not extend to mind reading or I'd be meeting my dusty end at the point of a stake right about now. Standing there with the bourbon in hand, I thought of the Slayer all drunk and friendly and it just…well, another good thing is the lack of light down here so she can't see my…reaction to that thought. What? Oh. She's looking at me.  
  
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"Right here, Slayer. Bit lost in thought. So, you've really never done this before?"   
  
I roll my eyes at him, his tone clearly adding those double meanings he is so fond of. "Right, Spike. Never." I put one hand on my hip and look around, noting the lack of chairs to sit on. "So, where should we do it?" The minute the words fall from my lips, I feel the blush come back with a vengeance. Buffy's mouth is not connected to her brain tonight. I stammer because Spike's grin just got much, much wider. "The drinking. Where should we do the drinking thing?" I try to act like I don't know what he is thinking, but since I am so obviously thinking the same thing, I fail miserably.  
  
"Well, Buffy." How does he say my name like that? I almost shiver from the sound of it. "We can do it just about anywhere you want to. Soft-like, on the bed there." He gestures at his admittedly big and cushy bed with the bottle. "Or maybe hard-like, on one of the tombs up there." This time he swings the bottle towards the upstairs. "You have a preference, luv?" His eyes dance in amusement, but there is something else there that makes my stomach flip flop.  
  
Still, I could just stake him. Teasing me. Making me feel positively goose-bumpy with his sinister intentions and deep voice and…did I mention his lips? Yum. OH. No. I did not say that. We better get away from his bed area with all the bizarre ideas that are traipsing through my clearly overworked and overtired self. I'll go with upstairs. I nod that direction before speaking.  
  
"Hard. Definitely hard." And that is the way I choose to say it? What the? I bite back a groan at my choice of words. Well, his choice of words, but I repeated them. I really do think the connection between thought and word is permanently short-circuited. The only other reason for me talking like this to him is really quite unmentionable.  
  
"Prefer it hard, do you? I figured. Well, let's go, then." He turns and heads towards the ladder before I can protest and make the situation potentially worse. Again, sneaky bastard. I can just about see him smirking from behind. Behind. Lookit that. Mental note: Rear view equals good.   
  
I decide to avoid speaking altogether for the moment, mentally trying to reign in my so out of control hormones. Yes, it's true. Spike is a hottie. Particularly just out of bed with that tasty bedhead and stormy blue eyes. Stormy. Is that what the blue reminds me of? Kind of the blue right after a thunderstorm. Yeah, that's it. When the sky is unsettled, the air still and electrified. Which is just the way he makes me feel when he looks at me with those eyes…  
  
"Buffy? Coming, luv?" Spike hesitates at the top of the ladder, poking his head back down to see me rooted to the spot, eyes glazing. I really honestly hope I did not start drooling, but I'm afraid to check.   
  
I blink, forcing my body into motion, even putting on an attempt at a normal smile. "Yeah, right behind you." Oh yeah, right directly behind you. The slap to my inner self is ineffective. Every word out of my mouth is full of my darkest intentions when it comes to him. Those intentions are not to be spoken, but I can't stop implying them tonight.   
  
And the part that freaks me out far more is that I don't want to.   
  
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I am so pushing it right now. Don't know why the Slayer hasn't put me back in my place. She is – dare I say it – flirting with me. And I can't help it. I'm giving it back in spades. First, she sneaks into my crypt and gives me the eye while I'm naked. Then, she wants to drink with me. And now, with the flirty talk? Only so much a love-starved vamp can take, especially when it is the very object of my affection doing all of the above. 'm not going to push it, though. She's as skittish as they come nowadays. Take it bloody slow, Spike.  
  
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I gulp and head towards the ladder as Spike's feet disappear. I step up the ladder carefully, startled to look up and meet Spike's gaze. He is waiting at the top for me, hand out. What's that for? Oh, he's helping me. Sweet. I reach up my hand, eyes never leaving his, and slide it slowly into his. His skin is smooth, slightly cool to the touch, but not too much so. I rarely touch him on purpose if not to punch him. It's…nice. As his hand tightens on mine, I feel the nerve endings of my arm awaken, firing in sequence from the point of contact up to my spine and down my back. Goosebumps pop up and I try to feebly blame them on the chill in the room, but I know it is the way he is touching me that causes them. Gentle but firm, he pulls me up to a standing position as I try not to stumble, since I stubbornly refuse to release his eyes.   
  
"Is it hard?" Spike's eyebrows shoot up in surprise at my statement. Think, Buffy, think! "Taking shots. Is it hard?" I am so, may I say again, busted. Sooner or later, he's going to call me on this flirtation and I'm going to have to admit that he is the only one. The only one I like to be around anymore. And being around him more and more is only making my feelings topsy turvier than ever. He's good to me and I just hardly know what to do with that.   
  
"Mm. Not too hard, Slayer." I can tell he's holding back. There are so obviously some words he would like to be saying to me, but he is most certainly holding back. I kind of wish he wouldn't, but that's just the kind of thinking I am trying to avoid. A gentle pressure reminds me that we are still standing in front of each other, holding hands. Oh god. Just then, he releases my hand, letting his thumb graze the back of it as he does. I shiver involuntarily. "Cold?"  
  
I should lie, say yes, I am cold. Frosty cold. Brr. "No, I'm okay." Smooth, real smooth. He is studying me, absorbing my reaction to him, which he so obviously caught. Could he be a little less perceptive? "Where to?" I look around and he gestures to a nearby sarcophagus. Desperate to put at least a bit more space between us before I do something colossally stupid, I dart over to it. I hop on, swinging one leg over to straddle the cool stone. I thank my lucky stars that I was smart enough to switch to jeans tonight. This perch would be quite difficult, not to mention revealing, in the skirt I had on. Settled, I look up to see Spike in the same spot, head cocked, just looking at me. He leans over to pick up the shot glasses and glass carafe partly full of bourbon. Guess he set them down when he got up the ladder. My eyes instantly drop to his rear end, snapping away when he stands up and almost catches me. I pretend to study the walls of the crypt as he swaggers over to me. And oh, does he ever. When he arrives next to the crypt, I carefully place the most innocent expression I can on my face. I was not looking at his butt. No sirree. I glance up when he doesn't sit down and the innocent expression I worked so hard on is instantly corrupted by that damn smirk of his. When did the little curve of his mouth become such an issue for me? I find myself matching it with one of my own as he settles down across from me, also straddling. Best not to think about straddling.   
  
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Vixen. Thinks she got away with checking me out. Wish I knew what the hell was going on in that cute little head of hers. She's driving me bloody crazy tonight. She must have had one hell of a day to arrive in my crypt this vulnerable. So un-Buffy-like. Let the walls come crumbling down. With a bit of help from some whiskey, 'course.  
  
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He sets down one shot glass in front of me and one in front of him. He pulls the stopper out of the carafe, puts it aside. For some reason, I am god-awful nervous. I've been coming to see him for weeks. I'm not sure why tonight feels different. Kinda feels like a date. A very unofficial, ill-advised, secret-like date. Yeah. I watch intently as he fills my glass and then his. Carefully putting the carafe down, he waits until I lift my eyes to his.  
  
"Ready, Slayer?" Oh, damn. Am I?  
  
"Yep. Soooo, how do I…?" Just then, Spike picks up the glass with just his thumb and forefinger and then proceeds to down the shot in a blur of motion. Before I know what happened exactly, the empty glass is back on the stone top.   
  
"Your turn." He smiles at me, mischief running rampant across his features. "Don't sip it, luv. You have to down it in One. Quick. Swallow." Oh, he is such a dead man. Well, a more dead man. Does he ever say anything that doesn't have at least two meanings, one of them sexual? When I just sit there, half-scowling at him, he reaches out and lightly touches my hand, making me jump. "Scared?"  
  
"Oh, right. I'm scared. I kick demon ass every night of the week without breaking a nail, but I'm scared of a little liquor. I mean, really, Spike." I pick up the glass, sniff it and am startled at how strong it smells. "Nervous would be a much better word for it."   
  
He grins at me, lets out a low chuckle. "Worst thing that could happen is that you spit it all over me. Or swallow it too slow and burn your throat. Neither one very fatal, luv. Ready to give it a go?" I nod. I hold the glass to my mouth, eyes locked on his. "Open up your throat to help it slide down quick. Try not to taste it. Drinking shots really has nothing to do with tasting, pet."   
  
Screwing up my courage, I squinch my eyes shut, open my mouth and throw the liquid into my mouth. It burns on contact. I try to swallow fast, but it stays in my mouth long enough to make my eyes water and to set me off into a coughing fit.   
  
Wiping my eyes, I glance back at Spike, who is desperately trying not to laugh at me as the coughs diminish. "Not bad, Buffy. At least you didn't spit it back out. Burned a bit, though?"   
  
I nod, still coughing a bit. "Guess I need to be quicker about it." I feel a small pocket of warmth in my chest as the whiskey slides down. Mmm.   
  
"Yeah, throw it further back, straight to the throat instead of your mouth."  
  
"Got it. Well, don't wait all night. I'm not gettin' any younger. And well, you're not gettin' any older, for what that's worth. Pour." I wave at the two glasses with my fingers. And wouldn't you know it, there's that smirk I'm starting to…well, not dislike quite so much anymore…  
  
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Author's Note: Thanks for all the reviews so far, everyone! Happy reading! (And more reviewing!) -Tiana 


	4. Chapter 4: The Good Stuff

*****  
  
Chapter 4: The Good Stuff  
  
*****  
  
"Fast learner." His voice is caught between impressed and…concerned? I think. Things are not as crispy clear as they were when I got here. Back when he was naked. I feel my face slide into a pout. He's not naked now. I shake my head, knocking that highly inappropriate thought loose. Only it is holding on kinda tight, not wanting to get shook loose.   
  
"You all right, Slayer?" There it is again, concerned. Only more so. Wonder why? Ohhhh. 'Cause I'm only talking inside my head instead of answering him. That might be the problem-o.  
  
"'m fine, Shpike."  
  
"Then why did you call me Shpike?" Alrighty, now the amusement is back...and yep, there it is. The smirk. Ha freakin' ha, Buffy can't talk right no more.   
  
"I don't know, SPIKE. See? I can say it just fine." I notice right then that the carafe we started is now empty. "Hey. Empty." I frown at first the bottle, then at him. He smiles at me before swinging a leg off the sarcophagus and walking...where? "Where ya goin'?"   
  
I hear him in the shadows, can just make him out bending over beside his chair. He returns into the candlelight we are drinking by and holds up his prize. A shiny silver flask full of somethin'. Booze, I guess. Booze. Funny word. Oh, he's talking.  
  
"Found the rest of my stash, luv. And this…" He swishes the flask around. "…is the good stuff." He grins as he takes his place back on the sarcophagus. He quickly fills my glass and then his. He takes his shot and smiles slowly, with a look of pleasure I find very…interesting. I take up mine and look at it, matching his grin.  
  
"This is gonna be great." I throw it down and react immediately, shaking and fighting the taste. That was good? He is one weird vampire.  
  
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This is getting to be entirely too much fun. Slayer has really taken a liking…well, not so much a liking as found her calling with shots. She can take 'em like a pro, but still hates the taste. Bloody well cute when she reacts, especially this new reaction to my good whiskey. Should have known she wouldn't appreciate it, the way it slides down smooth and rich, warming from the inside out. 'course, I'm more in need of the warming than she is. What's this? Slayer feeling sorry for herself? Life is stupid? Well, yeah…she's got a point there…  
  
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I can't believe how easy it is to talk to Spike. None of my friends can stand to hear how much life sucks. But Spike, he agrees. He tells me it's okay to be sad, to be angry, to just feel, for god's sake. Even says the right thing, the tough thing. And he's cute when he does it, too. As a bonus. Ooh, more whiskey…  
  
***  
  
Ooh. No more whiskey. Laaasst shot.   
  
"You're a creature of the darkness. Like me." I study him. He almost makes sense and I don't know if it's the liquor or the truth. "Try on my world. See how good it feels." Like to see how good you feel. Wha?! Focus, Buffy.   
  
I glance down at my last shot and back up at him, vision blurring slightly. "Are there drinks in your world?"   
  
Smirk smirk smirk. "Slayer, luv, indeed there are." I throw back the last shot. Despite the nasty taste, I'm actually starting to get used to the strange burning sensation. It's nice to just feel something strong like that. To know I'm alive.   
  
I slam down the glass, nearly shattering it. Oops. Slayer strength. "Well, let's have at it then. Kick some demon booty and have fun doin' it!" I swing my arm in a very can-do maneuver, nearly knocking myself clean off the tomb. Spike's arm darts out to steady me, grasping my upper arm. I freeze, wobbling slightly, and look from his hand, up his arm, to his face. He lets go quickly before I can get a really good look into his eyes. Blue. So so blue. I look down at my arm where his hand was and it's still tingling. Back at him, but he's turned his eyes away from me, trying to hide something…or was there nothing to hide? A short and awkward silence extends itself. I try to swing my leg over to get off the sarcophagus, but for some reason, it is not responding. I bite my lip and look at my uncooperative right leg. Frowning, I tell those muscles to move again. Nothing. Spike is just watching me. I'm not looking at him. He's probably close to bursting into laughter.   
  
"Little help here?" I frown up at him. "My leg is not responding to commands, it appears."   
  
I can tell Spike is exerting way more self control than usual to keep from laughing as he gets up and comes to my rescue. My leg is mostly asleep and I am mostly drunk, it aeems. With a touch more gentle than I expected or really even knew he had, he lifts my leg and rotates me so that my legs are hanging off the side. Which ends up making him stand right there, kind of halfway between my legs.   
  
"Th-thanks, Spike." I curse to myself at the waver in my voice. But god, his hands on my leg were so strong and firm and…um, boy. Back up those thoughts, Buffy. I glance up at him quickly. He's still standing there, looking down at me in a most unsettling fashion. He nods in acknowledgement. It's the booze, most definitely. Only he does not appear to be drunk in the least. Damn vampire. What, you need more of an actual bloodstream to get alcohol into it?? But on my side, it's so the booze talking…and thinking. And kinda wanting. I bite into my lip, willing my inner voice to shut the heck up. When did I get so damn inner chatty? Time to go, let's go, Buffy.  
  
I break the quiet again, this time by hopping to my feet. Only Spike was awfully close to me when I did so, which just means I kinda rubbed against him when I stood up. My eyes widen at what I am quite sure I just felt. I mean, I don't have the vastest – oops, not a word – knowledge of these things, but he felt a bit on the hard side. I swallow. And not small. No sirree. More what you would call…big.   
  
I move away quickly, hopefully convincing him that I felt nothing. Could have been my imagination, what with the alcohol and inner turmoil. Yeah, it's my inner turmoil and return from the deadness that's making me act all wiggy. It will pass. I cut my eyes back to Spike, who has made a show of locating his duster off in the shadows. I hear that swish of leather and then he reappears in the familiar coat, eyebrows quirked up in question.   
  
"Ready to go, Slayer?" Oh, so are we business-y again? I try to look serious, match his demeanor. I fail miserably and start to giggle as I mock salute.  
  
"Ay ay, cap'n." He rolls his eyes, but I can tell he likes it. He always likes it when Buffy comes out to play.   
  
"You're right pissed, luv." He grins, jamming his hands in his pockets. Hey, is he moving? Oh no, it's just the world rotating extra fast around me. Whoa.   
  
"Nuh-uh. I'm not mad!" Again, eye roll. What did I do now?  
  
"Not that kind of pissed, pet. I mean you're drunk."  
  
My indignance flares up even further. Even though he's right. "Nuh-uh!" I put my hands on my hips. Well, I try to. Hips are slippery and my hands slide right off. I try again, this time clutching quite hard.   
  
"Whatever you say, Slayer. You up for this?" He cocks his head. Cuuute when he does that. No no. Not cute. Infuriating.  
  
"'course I am. Not drunk. Jusht a little tipsy." And lispy. Lispy, tipsy. Funny words…  
  
"Right, right. Well, let's take the motorcycle, it's a bit of a hike to this place."  
  
I try not to squeal in excitement. Spike's never taken me on the motorcycle before. And damn, I've really wanted to go for a ride. I just could never get myself to ask. I feign nonchalance.  
  
"'kay." I think the hopping and clapping blows my cover, though. Spike just chuckles, hands me my jacket and gestures to the door with a flourish and half bow.   
  
"Your chariot awaits…"   
  
"Wha? I thought we were taking the motorcycle!" The whine enters my voice without permission. Me wanna ride the…oh, a joke. Maybe I am drunk. "I mean, yeah okay." Nice. That fooled him. Ha.  
  
And for the thousandth time tonight, the smirk returns as we head for the door. I concentrate real hard on walking straight but whatever was in that flask has turned my knees to jelly. Suddenly, I feel a hand under my elbow, holding me steady. I let myself enjoy it for a moment before pulling away. Letting Spike touch me is still on the no-no list. Could give him…hell, could give me ideas. Change of subject is a good idea. "Where's it parked?"   
  
He looks a little wounded that I wouldn't let him help me, but I just…well, old habits are hard to break. I smile at him and that seems to help. "Follow me, luv. Not too far."   
  
"Oh, I'll follow…" Holy moley, I started to say that out loud. The downright lusty tone is not lost on him, dammit. I switch to innocent at whiplash speed. "you to the motorcycle." His eyebrows furrow at my ridiculously obvious statement…and my obvious denial that I wanted to check out his rear view on the way to the bike.   
  
I'm starting to wonder if this was such a hot idea after all… oh wait, he's getting away!  
  
"Coming!"   
  
Spike slows down to wait for me. In fact, he stops completely and I crash right into him.   
  
"Oops. Sorry, Spike." I'm a little flustered and don't move away from his leather-clad self quite fast enough. He's just all…firm. I know this, why is this a revelation? He's all sleek and muscle-y. Duh. I've been fighting with him for four years. So why does touching him now make me feel all shivery? Booze. Oh yeah, it's the booze! That's a relief.   
  
I step back, hoping to death that the blush I feel did not make it to my cheeks. We drop back into step together and after a few minutes of a slightly more comfortable silence, Spike speaks without looking at me.  
  
"You okay, luv?" He cuts his eyes at me quickly and then resumes looking ahead. I know we've gotten closer since I came back, but it's still hard to remember, hard to really understand that he loves me, that he still loves me. And it comes out in these ways, in these small quiet moments.   
  
"I'm trying to be." We meet eyes and I give him a little smile. It would be nice if his smile wasn't swimming in front of me. As mentioned, booze.   
  
"Ah, here we are." We arrive in front of the beat up motorcycle he apparently acquired the night I came back. Still haven't heard that whole story, but I know he was sitting with Dawn. Looking after my little sis. I feel all warm inside and this time, I'm not so sure it's the booze after all…   
  
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Author's Note: Naturally, there are lines here and there borrowed from Life Serial in this and future chapters, as I am trying to mesh this fic into the episode. Enjoy! And leave reviews, if ya please! :) Tiana 


	5. Chapter 5: Holding On

*****  
  
Chapter 5: Holding On  
  
*****  
  
I don't understand how he does this to me. He asks the question that everyone else has been asking me over and over and…well, a lot. 'Are you okay?' When they ask, I have to grit my teeth and force out an answer and a nice fake smile. He never asks me that. Only he just did. And it didn't make me crazy at all. It made me actually feel kinda…warm and fuzzy. And safe. He makes me feel so…  
  
"Slayer?"   
  
Oh shit. Earth to Buffy. Spike is talking to me and here I am just standing here all doe-eyed, staring at him like a lovesick puppy. He can probably see me thinking about him, it's so obvious. I blink rapidly, trying to cover up. He looks at me curiously over his shoulder and I realize he is already on the bike and waiting for me.   
  
"Works much better if you actually get on the bike, Buffy." His smirk is all sassy. I roll my eyes and take the last few steps to the beat up machine.   
  
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Slayer is about to send me right around the bend. She's here and then she's gone. Lost in thought, I guess. Or just really blazing drunk. Bit hard to tell. But the way she was just looking at me. Well. That was something to remember. All soft and tender. Must be the booze. Slayer is so rarely soft and tender and certainly not in my direction. I can't help but smile as she sidles up to the bike. Nibbling on her bottom lip as she looks it – and me – over. Good thing I can hold my liquor better than her or I'd be cashing in a one way ticket to staking by grabbing her right about now. Also good she can't read my thoughts or again, staking.   
  
"Is there a problem, luv?" She looks positively confused. And god, adorable.   
  
She cocks her head at me, eyes wide and dark in the night. "Um. I'm not sure where to put my feet. Or foot. You know – to get on." I look back and point out the peg sticking out by the back wheel.   
  
"Right there, Slayer. One foot in and then swing over. Just like a bicycle." She leans down, squinting a bit before spotting it. Definitely can't hold her drink.   
  
"Oh yeah, there it is. Was hiding from me." Her grin is almost too much. Never get to see her happy and it makes me ache. Makes me happy. I'm such a bloody ponce.  
  
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I can't stop looking at him. I wonder if he can tell I'm stalling. It didn't occur to me 'til right about now how…intimate…riding a motorcycle is. I have to hold onto him. Right up against him. I don't usually do that. Ever. And right now, it seems that bad things might happen if I do. Or good things, depending on your point of view… No. NO. Bad things. Not with Spike. Not going there. But I am.   
  
"Right foot, pet. Start with your right foot." Oh, duh. I plant my right foot firmly and then realize my hands go somewhere. His shoulders. Dear god, this was a stupid stupid thing to agree to. I put both hands on his shoulders and swing my left leg up and over. And nearly swing right back off the bike. Too drunk and overly strong for that maneuver. I clutch harder into his shoulders and Spike's right arm shoots back to steady me. I freeze in place, kind of halfway down to my seat as I feel his hand dig into my hip. My whole body shivers in place and I pray he can't feel it.   
  
"Alright, Buffy? Can't have you falling off back there, now can we?" He shoots a look at me and I feel my legs return to their jelly-ish state. I slowly slide all the way down to my seat, causing his hand to slide, to rise up and brush against…whoa! He lets go quickly before it gets more…interesting.   
  
"I'm…I'm fine." Oh yeah. Way convincing. I mimic my timid little voice in my head. I sound like a delicate little flower. And I'm not. I'm the freakin' Chosen One.   
  
"Hold on then. I'm starting 'er up." Spike stands up a little before dropping down to kickstart the bike. On the second try, it roars to life and I feel the whole thing vibrating between my legs. Damn. That feels…ahem…well. Moving on…  
  
As I just kind of get used to the rumbling shaking my whole body, I take an inventory. Feet, firmly planted on pegs. Legs, tightly pressed against his. Arms, wrapped around his waist like I won him at the state fair. My upper body in full contact with his leather clad back.   
  
Holy shit.   
  
I unclench everything all at once, nearly flailing my way off the bike. Thank god we weren't moving yet or I'd be Slayer-shaped roadkill. Now, here's the tricky part. It's very hard to sit on a motorcycle behind someone without actually touching that person. Inevitably, my legs find their way back against his and I have to decide where the hands go. Safe would be a light grip on the duster, just enough to steady myself. Actually, safest would be placing my hands on my own thighs, so naturally, I put my hands on his.   
  
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I nearly kill the engine in surprise when I feel her hands light on my thighs. Bloody Slayer is going to make me lay this bike down and we're not even moving yet. I can almost hear the gears in her mind working. For just a moment, she relaxed her body against me, her warmth rapidly seeping through my clothes. In the next, she was gone. I almost checked behind me to see if she fell off. Then, the barest touch of her legs against mine and now this, the flutter of two little hands lighting on my thighs. Damn. If I react, she'll definitely pull back.   
  
"Ready, luv?"   
  
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"And willing." Oh my GOD. If I didn't have my hands, um, settled, I'd smack myself right in the forehead. Where is this voice coming from? Am I trying to flirt with him? Like, on purpose? This is why I don't drink. That way leads to badness. Ooh, he has the tightest thighs ever.   
  
Argh.  
  
Hmm, he hasn't said anything. Maybe he didn't hear my little comment. No, he so heard me. One curious blue eye just caught me over his shoulder before facing forward again. He heard me with the sassy, flirty-ness and I am so… I brace myself for his snappy comeback.  
  
"Hold on, Slayer."   
  
Wha? That's not snappy. It was just…instructional. With that, he hits the gas or releases the brake or whatever the heck you do to make a motorcycle go. To keep from falling to my death…okay, to bumps and bruises….I grab on. Tight. Yipes.   
  
After the first burst of speed, it become easier to hold on. I realize that I have his thighs in a death grip and try, I really do, to let up. Only, I can't. And I don't want to, either. The crisp night air starts to clear my head of the liquor somewhat, but I still think the world is going a bit fast and blurry for my taste. Wait. That could just be the motorcycle ride. Anyway. Back to the holding onto Spike. Those hands of mine have a mind of their own and it is naughty naughty. By the time I've regained my sense of balance from our initial takeoff, I determine that my hands have somehow moved from the tight hold on his thighs to his hips. Only I don't even want to contemplate the path they took to get there. Fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, tugging on the soft cotton of his well-worn tee. We take a turn and I clutch tighter, apparently untucking the shirt. How do I know that? Well, here's how. When my hands relax again, my little finger touches flesh. His flesh. His undead, smooth-as-silk skin. He tenses. I feel it run through me as, of course, I've now leaned into him again. My chest pressed against his back, my cheek resting on aged leather. I take a breath and take in the scent of Spike. Of old leather and whiskey and faint tobacco. Plus something indefinably him. A scent I know in the dark walking through a cemetery, something I can recognize as this one particular bleached blond vamp. And the part of me that is becoming increasingly bold tonight announces that it likes it.   
  
But hey, back to the skin. That brazen pinky finger brushes his cool skin and the other fingers push and shove to do it, too. Before I can string together a screaming protest, there's a whole hand touching him. Touching those rock hard abs and trying desperately not to move. For some feeble reason, I am still pretending that I am just holding on. Not feeling him up, noooooo. Just holding ON. Y'know, it would be more convincing if the other hand was doing the same thing…  
  
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Bloody fucking hell. What is she doing? I glance down and confirm what I could already feel, what made me tighten every muscle in my body. Her hand, under my shirt. Does she even know it? Is she that drunk? I can't tell at all without looking at her. I can feel the warmth of her body coursing through mine as she relaxes into me from behind. For once, I curse my duster for getting between me and Buffy. I could really feel that pulsing heat if this damned coat was gone. OKAY. Two hands under the shirt. She has to know she is doing this. What is she playing at? Is she playing?  
  
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Spike hasn't said a word. Has he not noticed? Do I want him to notice? God, I need another drink, another shot of liquid courage. Inhibitions be darned. Would it be so bad to just touch him a little bit? Buffy's drunk! Doesn't know what she's doing! Just wants to see Spike naked! Big deal!   
  
And then, despite the haze of booze, guilt. Oh guilt, you bastard. I can't use him. He loves me. I can't just be all touch-y and stuff unless I feel something for him, too.   
  
And there's the million dollar question. What do I feel for him? I turn my head, letting the other cheek meet leather and letting my eyes try to catch the buildings blurring past us. We are going wicked fast. Or I'm wicked drunk. Or both.   
  
Probably both.   
  
I let my hands just rest there against him, not moving, while I think. But thinking is a foggy, tricky thing at the moment. Every lucid thought slips through my fingers. The roar of the engine dims, fades into the background as I think a little harder. I feel us turn, feel the vibration continue to rattle my bones, but it's all kind of dull. And I find that when you peel away all the negative, all the everyday thoughts that crowd my brain, just push them aside, things are different.   
  
I stop thinking of Spike as a vampire, as an evil villain, as all those things. I end up thinking about the way his hair sometimes curls up on his forehead. The sound when he laughs, all low and rumbly. The gentle blue of his eyes when he looks at me and thinks I don't see. The wetness I saw there when he told me that he saved me in his dreams every night after I died. He counted the days I was gone, expecting there to be no end. 147 and up. His expression when I came down the stairs that first night, bloody and scared and dying to curl up and well, die. And all I could see in his face was love. Shock, yes, but love. Took my hands in his, a touch light and careful. Almost holding hands. It was so calming, so…right.  
  
It's not just words. He loves me. Loves me with everything he's got. If I just let myself see it, it is pouring from him, even when he is silent. When he is just listening to me. And me? What do I feel about all this? Would I notice all these things if I didn't feel something, too? I sigh, touched by my own overdue, drunken realization about him and my utter confusion about me. This gets his attention where the groping did not. Oh, we stopped. I look up. A stoplight.   
  
He looks over his shoulder, meeting my eyes. Our faces are inches apart and I'm afraid he can see my thoughts scrawled there. Except he just smiles a little and says, "Still up to it, Slayer? The bar?" He cocks his head towards the demon bar he frequents, just a few blocks up the street.   
  
I look the direction he gestured. I look back at him. Back towards the bar. Back to him. And then slowly, very slowly, I shake my head.   
  
"No?" He knits his brow, turning a little bit more towards me. "What, then?" His expression is open, questioning. My thoughts continue to swirl as I try to figure out what I am feeling. My desire to keep moving, to let the world whip by us, is too strong. Too much what I need right now. On the bike, we are together. I'm allowed to touch him, to be near him. Off the bike, I have to retreat, be Buffy. Separate from Spike. Or at least it seems that way.   
  
"Can we just ride?" I smile just a touch, corners of my mouth turning up. Eyes asking him not to ask questions. He simply nods with a little twinkle in his eyes and turns back around. The engine roars louder as we peel out of the intersection with a squeal. I grab on for dear life, thoughts of proper behavior and the burdens of everyday living left behind in our wake. 


	6. Chapter 6: Loud

*****  
  
Chapter 6: Loud  
  
*****  
  
I'm wondering how far Buffy wants to go. On the bike, that is. As far as other issues, I'm not even going to venture there. Her warm little hands have taken up permanent residence under my shirt, lightly brushing over my skin sometimes, but mostly just resting there. It's almost too bloody much to bear. She never touches me. Unless she's punching me. And this feels quite a bit nicer than that. We've been on the bike for about fifteen minutes now and she hasn't spoken in the last ten. I want to know what she's thinking all pressed up against me like this, but asking her questions could end this…this whatever. Don't want that, so I'm keeping my gob shut. I'm not doing anything to ruin this.   
  
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I don't think I've ever seen Spike this quiet before. Sure, he often just listens to me when I visit or just lets us sit in silence when I'm down, but this. This is different. He is QUIET. Nothing, no eye contact, no smirks, no offhand comments. Just staring straight ahead, hands curled around the handlebars, back tense. It's like he's not even here. Even when I moved my hands on his abs, he kept driving. It did seem his muscles went tight – well, tighter, 'cause hello, pretty tight already – when I touched him, but that was it. Crap. I must be sobering up a little. I'm trying to think too much. And what do I want, anyway? Do I want Spike to do something? To react to my flirtations? Why would I want that when I hate him?   
  
Okay, little secret. The fact is, I don't hate him. Luckily, I'm talking to myself, so this won't get out. I…like him, actually. It turns out he's a really decent guy…for a vampire. Aside from that period where he was trying to kill me and my friends, he's really been there for me. And for Dawnie.   
  
And did I mention the whole 'easy on the eyes' thing? 'Cause, um, YEAH. Tasty bod, all tight and sleek. Wicked cheekbones, like you could cut glass on them. Blue eyes made for drowning in. Even that damn scar in his eyebrow. So hot. Dangerous.  
  
Argh. Thought I was over the dangerous thing? But that's just it…he's not. Not really. Sure, he can kick ass in a fight and is most fatal to the demon population, but he's gentle as a kitten with me now. Well, still a smartass, but a…well-intentioned one? Wow. Never thought well-intentioned and Spike could fit inside the same thought, but there ya have it. One painfully hot, demon-killing, well-meaning, smart alecky, not so dangerous anymore vamp right between my legs.   
  
Oops.   
  
That came out wrong. He's, you know, in front of me and my legs are kind of around him, so he is technically, yes, between my legs, but it's not like…like I'm also draped all over him, now is it? Oh. So it is. Who am I talking to?   
  
Guess I'm not sobering up, after all. I've got to get off this bike before I crawl over him and get him between my legs in a different way. So not good, Buffy. Even thinking that was not good.   
  
"Spike!" My voice is nearly lost in the rushing wind, but I see him jump just a little so he must hear me. The slight turn of his head towards me confirms it. I lean forward slightly to get my mouth closer to his ear. "Maybe we should hit that bar. Get some info?"   
  
He nods, answering by slowing the bike enough to turn it in the middle of the road back towards town. With a quick flick of the wrist, he goes full throttle. Nearly thrown back and off the bike, I grab onto him tighter. Cool skin beneath my hands in a death grip and I have to wonder if he did that on purpose.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Worked like a charm. Slayer was starting to drift back there, though if the heat coming off her was any indication, I think I might want to know what she was thinking on. Every bloke with a motorbike knows a sudden acceleration will get the girl to hold on for dear life. And she does. Even the little pinch from her fingernails digging into me is worth it. Makes me know it's real. The real Slayer is really behind me, really holding onto my bare skin with her really warm legs pressed against mine. And I really don't know if staying on this bike much longer is safe for either of us. If she does something she regrets later, I'll be the one to wake up dusty.  
  
Might as well get a few hands of poker in while the Slayer is game. See if I can help her with this problem. Anything to keep her close for a few more hours.   
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
I don't loosen my grip until we slowly ride into the alley by the biggest dive in Sunnydale. And considering the demon population of Sunnydale, that's saying something. I lean back a little, wondering if I have little creases on my cheek where I had it flattened against Spike's duster. I think a seam may have become a permanent part of my face. And I care how I look because a bunch of demons are gonna see me? As we draw to a stop, I realize there is only one demon – of sorts – that I'm worried about seeing me. Spike drops the kickstand and the bike leans slightly to the side. I clutch him very tightly before I realize we are not tipping over. As the bike motor cuts off, I hear – no, feel, really – a low chuckle rumble through him.   
  
"Wha's so funny?" Great. Still slurring.   
  
"Nothing, luv. Just think I'm gonna need to check my ribs when we get off. Good thing I don't breathe, eh?"   
  
"Ha Ha." I let go of him, though a bit slower than is altogether proper. It's just his skin is so smooth and…okay, letting go now. I withdraw my hands, but then I'm not sure what to do with them. What's motorcycle etiquette? Do I get off first or…?   
  
"Slayer?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"We're here."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"So…" He cranes his neck around to look at me quizzically. What? "…this would be the part when we get off the bike."  
  
I laugh, too loud and way too goofy. "Right! And so here I go." I squirm a little, figuring out how to do this. A small sound escapes Spike. A moan? No, he did not moan. That would mean my squirming was making him feel all…getting off now! The bike! Getting off the bike! Not getting off anything else…or anyone else.  
  
Crap. Better get a little distance between us. With less grace than I've displayed in some time, I manage a scramble off the bike and find myself on my ass on the ground. How did that happen? "Oof."   
  
Spike faces forward on the bike, head down. Shaking slightly. Laughing! He's laughing at me! When he turns back to face me, his expression is purposely neutral, but I see those damn blue eyes dancing in amusement. Swinging off the bike all devil may care, black coat swooshing in a fairly sexy manner, he stands in front of me, hands on tight little hips. I fight the urge to slump down to the ground in frustration. My mind is totally betraying me with these comments. Good thing Spikey here is no mind-reader. He extends a hand to me. Two beats pass while I look at it.  
  
"Uh, Buffy? You okay?" Touching him again. I have got to stop touching him, but his hand is just out there, waiting. So, I slide my hand into it and the tinglies run straight up my arm like I stung my finger in a light socket. Only good. How can even his hands be all sexy? Strong, slightly rough from years and years of fighting. I tighten my grip and feel him zip me to my feet with little effort.   
  
I stand there in front of him, not letting his hand go. Lifting my eyes to look at him, I feel my breath catch in my throat. I admit, I am under the dire influence of alcohol, but he makes me feel actually dizzy. Face half-shadowed by the glare of a streetlight. Cheekbone etched across his face. Eyes locked on mine, dark and intense. Lips twisted into a cute little smirk. Damn it, I like his smirk. I'm not supposed to. Supposed to make me want to punch him. Which just so happens to be the last thing on the long list of things I want to do to him at the mo'.   
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The look on the Slayer's face is making me feel positively warm. Didn't know I could feel that way, but there you have it. Eyes big and green, somehow unfogged by her drinking. Considering her graceful dismount from the bike, I would have expected her to be out of it in the eyes, but no. She's right there, present, focused. Making me a sight nervous, I have to say. Cheeks are pink, hair is surprisingly neat considering our bike ride. Of course, she had her herself tucked awfully close to me, her own vampire windbreak. I can feel the pulse in her wrist pounding against my fingers and I am starting to answer it with a throb of my own. Not good, Spike old boy. Buffy may be tipsy, but I bet she can still find the heart with a pointy piece of wood if called on. Don't press your luck. Probably should let go, but I don't want…  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
I snap my hand out of his grip, breaking the moment in half. I strain to return to business. This is a mission, not a date. I think. At least, that's how it started. I look away from his slightly confused and wounded look. Anywayyyy…  
  
"This the place?" Spike nods and turns toward the door, now full on grinning. He reaches the door, pulling it open with a creak. "Did I miss something?"   
  
Spike turns back to me with the door open, hand still on the handle. He puts his index finger up to his lips. Huh? "Buffy. Pet. You're waking the dead."   
  
I cock my head at him. What the hell does he mean? "What the hell do you mean?"   
  
"Loud, sweet Slayer. You are loud."   
  
Oh. I'm talking loud. Oops. He turns back to the door and goes through without another word. I follow, wondering just how loud I was. As I watch his back in front of me, I also realize I am so much in need of additional booze. Anything to take my mind off him. Off the way the leather stretches tight across his back when he moves.   
  
"Well, your motorcycle is loud." There's a snappy comeback for ya. I'm loud? Well, so's your bike. Why don't I just tell him to shut up? That's very high on the clever scale. What did he say? Back room? I am not going to a back room with…oh right, I am. Lead on, vamp boy!   
  
Ooh, booze. I snatch the bottle set on the bar by the rather lizard-y demon bartender and pop off the pourer. Sweet nectar of forgetting…   
  
ACK. This tastes as bad as the other stuff!   
  
"It's where the real action is." What's that? Spike's talkin' again. He talks a lot. The hot liquid is burning my throat and that is somehow interfering with my hearing. Action?   
  
"What kind of action?" I ask him, eyebrows darting up.   
  
Spike screeches to a halt, causing me to slam straight into his back. That back I like so well. The thick scent of leather teases me for just a second. Yum.   
  
"What's that, pet?" He half-turns to get a look at me. What did I say? Just being too close to him seems to be shorting out some important synap – snyap – snapsies – uh, brain connection thingies.  
  
"Uh, nothing." Oh right, action. I asked about the action. Maybe I'll just wait and see. That conversation looked like it was going the naughty way. Better to nip it in the bud. Or is that butt. Nip it in the butt? Sigh. He does have a nice butt.   
  
We enter a rather dingy room, looks to be for storage. Thankful for the distraction, I look around, see a table full of rather sketchy characters. They even look sketchy for demons.   
  
Spike leans closer to me and his breath tickles my skin lightly. "These lowlifes know everything that happens in this town."  
  
I try not to shudder. His voice is not making me tingle. His voice is not making me tingle. No tingle. "Oh good. These are the lowlifes." I cringe inwardly. Too loud. Again.   
  
Spike tenses, looks at me disapprovingly. "Fine. A little louder."   
  
Sor-ry. Don't have to get all snippy. Ooh goody. Mr. Snippy is going over to knock some heads. I fight the urge to clap my hands in anticipation. 'Sides, I've got the bottle in my hand and that would probably just result in spillage.   
  
Wait, what's this? He's chucking a demon my way? No, he's kicking him out! Wait! "Ooh, ask him if he's heard - "   
  
Spike cuts me off. "Later." Later? What the heck does he mean, later? Now, not later! And what's with the sitting down and – oh, no you're not!   
  
"You're gonna play cards?" Oh, come on!   
  
I can see Spike tense and then stand up. "I need a moment with my lady."  
  
His lady!? Oh no, you don't. Don't try sweet talkin' me. I came here for some forget-my-crappy-life violence and I aim to get it. None of this sitting quietly while 'my man' plays poker. Nuh-uh. Hey! Hands off the merchandise! I snap out of Spike's tight grip.   
  
"You wanna play, that's fine. Okay? I am sticking to the original plan. Which one do I kill for information?" I glance over, thinking I could take that wrinkly one. Looks soft.   
  
Spike's voice is low, tense. "Listen. These guys talk while they play. We'll get more information out of their mouths than out of gaping holes in their corpses."  
  
I hesitate, look over at the waiting demons and back at Spike. Dammit. That makes sense. When did Spike get to be the sensible one? I think of the bottle in my hand and figure it out. Oh yeah, back when I got ahold of this stuff. Fine. Fine. FINE. I'll just sit over here and wait. Me, the Slayer, waiting for the undead pain in my butt to play…what the heck??  
  
"You play for kittens?!?"  
  
******************  
  
Author's Note: Yes, another long-ish delay, I know! I'm trying to keep up with two fics and a ton o' other RL stuff, so hang in there! Thanks for the great reviews – they make it easier to find the time to work on my fic! More, please! ;) -Ti 


	7. Chapter 7: Stop the World

*****  
  
Chapter 7: Stop the World  
  
*****  
  
I will not turn and look at her…I will not turn and look at her… Yes, we play for bleedin' kittens. So what? We're demons, eh?  
  
"So, who's gonna advance me a tiny tabby?" Nobody answers. "Come on, someone's gotta stake me."   
  
"I'll do it!" Slayer thinks she's very cute. Joking about making me dusty is not funny. This time I do turn and look at her. "What? You thought I was just gonna let that lie there?" And back to the bottle she goes, terribly pleased with herself.   
  
Truth be told, she's adorable. Cracking jokes – at my expense, no less – has not been of her pastimes lately. Too much frowning. Guess I should be glad to see signs of life. Only, better make sure she doesn't get so drunk she follows through on one of these 'jokes'. Also would be good if these guys don't figure out she's Demon Enemy No. 1. Might not like her company so much as I do.  
  
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Bored bored bored. Oh, and a bit more bored. Looky there, Spike's still cheating. These demons are not the sharpest tools in the shed. I would recommend not letting the vampire deal if I were them. If I were they? If I were those guys? Huh. I just wouldn't let 'im. His hands move way too fast for them to see. Fast hands. Yep. He's got faaaast hands. Quick like a bunny. And skillful. Full with the skills. Wonder what else he can do with those haaaa -   
  
Damn. I have got to stop thinking of him like this. 'Cause the more I look at him, the more I want to way more than think about him. God, I'm really ungrammatical in my head. Again, that's the booze making me talk funny. Yep, the booze, for sure.   
  
Wha? Spike looked at me, but I missed what he said. Charm? I'm a charm? Mm, more boooooze. This bottle sure doesn't hold much. 'm almost done. Eww. Not getting any tastier, that's for sure, but the warm fuzzies are nice.   
  
Oh boy. They caught him cheating. Blah blah blah. God, demons are just like guys. Ego and arguing and stuff. You're gonna lose your kittens, Spikey boy.   
  
HEY! Ugly? Did that scaly face demon just call me ugly? And what did wrinkle boy say 'bout me? Yah, my skin is tight. I moisturize. What of it? If I wasn't busy sittin' here, I'd give you…well, a piece of mind. Not sure I can swing very accurately right this second. But I'm way offended. Yeah.   
  
Damn, Spike is hot when he's defending me. All tense jaw and swagger. Wait, did I say he is hot? Where the hell did that thought come from? Just 'cause he is ready to knock heads over an insult to my non-ugliness? Or was it that skin thing? Kinda sweet, I must say. Stupid male stuff, but sweet.   
  
Alrighty, last swig. Let the boys duke it out while I say hello to the bottom of the bottle. Hel-looo, bottom!   
  
I let the bottle drop to the floor and try to listen to Spike again. Oh no, that's not gonna happen. Spike is picking a fight for both of us. Like I'm gonna defend his honor and get all dirty in the process? He was cheating, after all…  
  
"What? I'm not getting into a bar fight! I'll beat 'em up for information, great, but not to defend your right to gamble for kittens. Which, by the way, is stupid currency."  
  
I'm outta here. This is so not working. Wanted Spike to find out who's messing with me. Instead, we're stuck in a back room while he cheats at poker and I'm thinking about how nice his ass looks in those jeans and wondering if he'll ever take off the duster so I can stare at his muscle-y arms and the aforementioned ass again. And that is so far from what I came to him for. It is. Really. I wanted him to be all Spike-y. With head-knocking and…and…I have to get out of here. This way leads to badness.  
  
Oh and now he's telling me what I need? What I need is not a fight. I need…I need…to free the kittens, first of all. And then, I dunno. Can't very well tell him I need HIM, huh? "Forget it. I'm not playing by anyone else's rules anymore. I'm done." And whoo, drunk. Walking is f-u-n. Not.   
  
"Scamper! Be free, kittens." Wow, it's kitten-palooza back here. This night has gone so wrong. I can't feel this way about him. It's…who is spinning the room around, anyway?   
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Slayer has just lost it. Tossed my winnings all over the table and they are running loose. I thought…I thought a spot of violence would make her feel like her old self.   
  
And now she's taking off, damn it.   
  
"What's wrong, luv?" I catch her in the bar, grab her by the shoulder, but she shrugs me off. Again.   
  
"What's wrong? You were gonna help me! You were gonna beat heads and fix my life…"  
  
I'm floored. Buffy really thought I could fix her life? I...   
  
"…And the only person I can even stand to be around is a - neutered vampire who cheats at kitten poker!"   
  
Hey now. Not exactly neutered... "Oh, you saw the cheating, did you?" Even drunk she's quick on the uptake. But wait, I'm the only person she can stand to be around?   
  
"Also? I think you're drunk." Maybe a little. But hey, where's she going? I'm starting to think encouraging her to drink was not such a hot idea. She's positively unreasonable. And did that thing mean she likes being around me? I mean, I guess I never…uh-oh, Slayer overboard. Better go save her before some demon has himself a lucky night.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Fresh air. Thank god. Okay, fresher air. Not like this alley is smelling like a field of flowers. But the bar, with the smoke and the miscellaneous demon smells. Not so mixy with a bottle of whiskey. Or was it tequila? Guess I never asked.   
  
Whoa. Van. Isn't that the…? Oh good, here's Spike. Looks pissed. Pissed at me?  
  
"That van." He turns and looks at it with me.   
  
"You wanna steal a van, I'm with you, luv, but we do have the motorcycle…"  
  
"I've seen it before. At the construction site. I'm gonna check it out." I wander towards the black van. Slowly. So as to keep the world from tipping sideways and all. Oh. Big red demon guy. With wings. Kind of like a big bat or somethin'. I can take him.   
  
WHOA! Swing and a miss. Let's try this move! Ka-pow! Kick to the chest, that got him. But ouchy. Who moved the ground so close to my butt? Gross. And I'm so going to feel that tomorrow. Get up, Buffy. Get up get up get up. Stupid demon. I'm going to kick your ass until your ass is all red. Only maybe it already is…I should just get up.   
  
What the ? Who? Oh, it's Spike. I got it, I got it. "I'm okay, I'm fine! Get off me." I know, I'm being a bitch, but I can't have him touching me. Makes me get all soft on the 'Spike does not affect me like that policy.'   
  
Holy crap. *cough cough* Stupid demon blew up. All David Copperfield with the fog and the disappearing. And where'd the van go, anyway?  
  
"He blew up. Did you see that?"  
  
"Yeah, I saw."   
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Gotta love it, you know. It makes you feel all powerful." That's my girl. Killing…or what, vaporizing…a demon was just what the doctor ordered. "Strong." That's right.  
  
Slayer looks a little green around the gills. Uh-oh. "Kinda sick." Oh no. That's no good.  
  
"Slayer?" She wavers on her feet as she looks up at me, eyes going out of focus. "Buffy? Stay with me, luv."   
  
"I…I think I may…I might just…" Lights out. I catch her before she hits the ground, her body warm and limp in my arms. That was unexpected. I kinda thought she would toss her cookies instead of dropping like a rock.   
  
But now what? I grab under her knees and swing her up into my arms, head lolling back over my right elbow. This is not a good place to have an incapacitated Slayer. Gotta get outta here.   
  
Hm. Giles is at her house. I don't think the Watcher would be too keen on me bringing an unconscious and drunk Slayer to the front door. Plus Nibblet might take it wrong. Not like I was trying to hurt her. Trying to help her, but I can hear it now. No, I better take her to my crypt, let her sober up. I'll have enough hell to pay when she wakes up with the headache to end all headaches.   
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Ooohhhh. Stop stop stop. Stop the world. Make it stop moving, I swear or I'm gonna…gonna, well, I better not say it. Might make me do it. Where the hell am I ? I'm floating and no…I'm being carried. By someone wearing leather who smokes cigarettes. Hmm. That narrows it down. Unless I've been abducted by a biker.   
  
I finally force my eyes open just a slit to see the flash of platinum blond I needed to confirm my belief that the nice hard body I'm leaning against is Spike's. I knew it.   
  
"Spike." I'm surprised he can even hear me. My voice sounds childlike to me, barely a whisper. But instantly he stops. That's better.   
  
"Slayer? You okay?" Wow. Concern. Dripping with concern. Worry, even. I force my eyes open again and I'm struck. He is studying my face, eyebrows drawn together, eyes searching mine for…for what? God, those eyes. In this light, they are just dark, but I know the blue. And I certainly know the intensity in them now.   
  
"Yeah. Just…the fight got me all dizzy and stuff."   
  
My body shakes with Spike's low chuckle. "Some fight, luv. You were like…" Hey. Don't make fun of drunk Slayers, now. I scowl. "…um, you did fine. Demon's gone, right?"  
  
I nod. Spike just keeps looking at me and I realize how close we are. He's lifted up his right arm to get a look at my face, bringing me with it. Less than a foot between me and those…those lips. All soft and inviting…unfair.   
  
My eyes dart from his eyes to his mouth and my tongue darts out to wet my lips. 'Cause they were dry, not 'cause I wanna kiss him, mind you. It's just that he's, uh, holding me all tight and looking at me all soft and…  
  
Spike straightens up. Without kissing me. I'm speechless. But he…he likes me. He said so! And I was just all encouraging and even though I shouldn't have been and should be relieved at this very second, all I can really think is that he is probably a really good kisser and I didn't get to find out.   
  
"Think you can walk, Slayer or should I…?"  
  
Should you kiss me? Yes, you freakin' should. But I don't say that. Of course. "I can walk, Spike. I think. Can you help…?" By kissing me now? But no, he just sets me to the ground and I'm all wobbly. And there he is again, all leather and firmness, holding out his arm for me.   
  
"Hold onto my arm, Buffy. You want to take the bike or walk?"   
  
"Depends." Here we go.   
  
"On?"  
  
"On where we're going." Oh god, I tried really hard to make my voice all steady and sexy and like I know what I'm sayin', but it came out all waver-y.   
  
I feel Spike's whole body go rigid. He sounds very…nervous. "And where are…we…going?" That's right, Spikey, I said we. Me and you makes we.   
  
I dart my eyes to the ground 'cause he's turning those baby blues towards me. I crack under them and I can't just blurt out what I'm thinkin'. I'm more than a little tipsy and I know he won't believe me. Yet.   
  
Wonder if I can swing nonchalant with this many butterflies in my tummy? "Just…uh, I can't go home like this. All drunk and all…uh. Can I…would you mind if…couldIgohomewithyou?"  
  
He understood me. Only reason he could be staring at me like that. And dummy me, I made eye contact. Speechless. Never seen Spike like that. Makes me want to giggle so bad. But I'm serious and he won't get it if I giggle. Only I think he's gonna freak. Uh-oh. "'Til I sober up?"  
  
He swallows real hard. Almost a gulp. I see it. "Sure, Slayer. No problem. So, the bike, then? It's further to my…place."   
  
Mmm. I answer quickly. Really super quickly. "Yes! The bike, yes!" I clap a little and Spike's eyebrow shoots up like someone hooked it. God, that's hot. Besides, what's a little bike ride gonna do? It's not bad. It'll clear my head. Yeah, clear my head. Yup.   
  
Plus, you gotta hold on, right? For safety and stuff. So, yeah. Hands in yummy places again.  
  
  
  
Yep. For safety's sake. Uh-huh.  
  
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Author's Note: So, this chapter is the one where I leave the episode behind. Everything has happened within the framework of the ep until near the end of this chapter. Only a few more to go, so your feedback is MOST appreciated! Thanks for all the great comments so far!! –Tiana 


	8. Chapter 8: Lickable

*****  
  
Chapter 8: Lickable  
  
*****  
  
Wish I knew what was going on in the Slayer's mind at the moment. Hard to tell if she is too drunk to know what she's doing. 'Cause what she's doing is driving me 'round the fucking bend. Warm little hand curled around my arm, leaning hard against me, the scent of her weakening me around the knees. And then to top it off, she looks up at me all soft and beautiful and she's instantly got me by the short hairs. I'm hers, and if she just knew what I would do for her… Lot more than just knock some demon heads. I'd do anything. 'Course she doesn't want to know just how mad I am over her. Does she?   
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Mmm. Firm. Spike's arms are nice. Nice for leaning on, nice for holding, nice for holding me... I stifle a giggle. It will not do for Spike to see me giggling. He'll think I'm not serious if I tell 'im I want to jump his very old bones. God, I can't believe I just thought that. I squeeze his arm a little harder, pretending I can't hold myself up that well. Really, I just want to squeeze his arm, feel those tight muscles go even tighter in response. His coat is in the way, though. Stupid coat.   
  
That coat is really in the way of me feeling his muscley goodness. "Take off your coat." Whoops. Blurt much, Buffy? Cover, cover... umm. "I'm cold." Good one! I try to bat my eyelashes at him. "Could I wear it?" I even shiver once for effect.  
  
I don't think he's buying it. He heard the tone in my voice when I demanded he strip. Oh, there's a visual. Spike. Strip. Heh. Spike squints at me. God, I really do hope he can't read thoughts. Or maybe I do hope he can...or maybe... hmm... "Sure, Slayer. I want you to be...warm." Oh my god. He can make any word in the English language turn into the naughtiest, down low dirty word. The way warm just vibrated out of his mouth was too good. Or bad. Or good. Whatever. I liked it. And ooh, the coat is comin' off!   
  
I just have to wonder if he knows how fucking sexy he is. Does he know? He can't see himself, so he doesn't even know what he looks like when he steps back and whips that coat off, a soft swish of leather, revealing his bare arms in a t-shirt. Did I mention the t-shirt is tight? Oh yeah. Just like the jeans. And there's that ass. Oh, how I've missed you.   
  
Shit. He caught me ogling him. Maybe 'cause I had to peek around him to see that tight little ass? So obvious. I feel my cheeks heat up but decide not to even defend myself. Go for diversion instead. I snatch the coat he is holding out and wrap it around me. Naturally, it is too big, but oh good god, it smells like him. And now he has seen me sniff the coat. This is not going well. Or just maybe it is going very well.   
  
"All right, Slayer?" Yum, he's looking at down at me and I just want get up on my tippy toes and give the tip of his nose a lick. Just a little one. Couldn't hurt, could it? Oh, he's talkin' to me again.  
  
"Yup. Fine, fine." Good god, he IS fine. I smile and nod as Spike continues to look at me.   
  
"Sure about getting on the bike? You look a little...wobbly." He cocks his head at me.   
  
I grin at him, his concern giving me a warm, fuzzy right in my belly. Hmm, and a little lower. Yum. "Nope, I'm okay. Let's head for the bike." He starts laughing. Why is he laughing? Ooh, there's that low down warmth again. Sexy damn laugh.  
  
"Yeah. Y'know, Slayer...you're quite cute when you are tipsy. We're here." Huh? Where? "The bike?"   
  
Oh.   
  
Huh. We're standing right next to it. When did we walk over here? Must have been when I was thinking about jumpin' him. Verrrry distracting. Hey, he called me cute!  
  
"Right. I knew that. Just testing you. Can't have you driving me around if you're all..." I wave my hand at him vaguely. "...y'know, drunk."   
  
He chuckles. Hoo, he has got to stop doing that or I'm going to need to sit down. On him. Damn, my thoughts are dirty. "Buffy. Luv. Takes quite a bit more for me to be drunk. 's a vampire thing, I guess."   
  
"Oh, well. Good. Test over. Let's go, then?" I squeeze his arm and let go. An idea occurs to me. "Ooh! Can I drive?"  
  
"You?"  
  
"Yeah, me. I've always wanted to do it."   
  
"Yeah?" I nod vigorously as he smirks at me. "Sorry, luv, no can do."  
  
I push my bottom lip out about as far as I can without hurting myself. "Why not?"   
  
"Slayer, you're in no condition."  
  
"Nuh-uh. I'm in great condition!" I'm the Chosen one, I don't even have to work out. Much.  
  
"Well, yes. Your condition is..." Oh, eyes. Eyes looking me right up and down. "...perfect, but you misunderstand." I pout a little harder. "You're too drunk. 's not safe."   
  
Right. Guess he has a point there. Not sure I should be walking unsupervised, much less driving. I won't mention that I can't drive even when I'm sober. Not relevant. Nope.  
  
My face falls as I realize he is right. He frowns. Glances from the bike to me and back again. What's he thinkin'? He pauses. I think he is trying real hard to pick words 'cause he's rarely quiet for this long.  
  
"'course, you could...ride in front. It's kinda like driving." Spike seems to be avoiding eye contact with me. Wonder why? He's got that nervous, but sexy vibe. Of course, he's always got the sexy vibe. All moods Spike. Hungry...and sexy. Sleepy...and sexy. Angry...and sexy. Sex-EEE.   
  
OH! I get it. "You mean, I could be in the front?"   
  
Spike shakes his head, smiling to himself, and turns to the bike. "Yeah." Is that what he said the first time? Anyway. Cool! Forgetting that I am all ouch-y from my big demon bout, I scramble onto the bike, clutching the handlebars and dropping down entirely too hard on my recently banged butt. "Ouch!"   
  
A note of real worry in his voice, "What's wrong, Slayer?" He grabs my waist to steady me as I teeter on the seat. I look at him and again, I'm wanting to lick him. Naughty, bad Buffy.   
  
"M'okay. My butt hurts." How embarrassing. Especially embarrassing that I said that right out loud.  
  
"Your bum? Ah, from hitting the pavement, eh?" His eyes just get all twinkly when he is fully amused by me. It's cute. "Probably gonna have a bruise down there, pet."   
  
Wanna check? Wow, the filter worked. I did not actually say that bit out loud. I'm so proud of myself. No invitation to Spike to inspect my rear end. Excellent willpower.   
  
Distracted from thoughts of my sore butt, I focus on how cool this feels. Straddling the bike, hands on the handlebars. Is that right? I don't know the lingo. I pretend rev them, making vroom vroom sounds. I hear chuckling and I glance at him He's standing next to the bike, hands on hips and fighting back more laughter. I grin widely. This rocks.   
  
"You gonna stand there all night or what? Get on!" I scooch forward, glancing behind to see if I left enough room. Glancing back up at Spike, I notice he has stopped laughing and is now looking at me. Hard. I gulp and turn back to face front. I feel my face flush, my heart go right into my throat. Not fair. Not fair that one stupid piercing glance turns me to jelly.   
  
Just when I am about to turn and make sure he is still there, I feel him. Oooh. That's nice. Very very nice. 'Cause he is cloooooose. He slides down into the space behind me almost silently. Well, kind of the space behind me. Almost the space I'm in, really. Said he was close. I feel him all the way down my back. If I ever had any doubt as to why girls like guys on bikes, that doubt is as far gone as my self-control.   
  
He doesn't speak as he settles down behind me. I can feel every inch of him. It should be illegal for a man...a vampire...to have a bod like this. Tight and hard, but not too much so. And lickable. I think I mentioned that. A few times. His arms come around me to grasp the bar thingies. Good god. What was I thinking getting in this position? We could not be any closer. He doesn't say a word, just stands up a bit and starts the bike with one big kick.   
  
Mmm. Remembering that I like this whole vibrating thing. Power between the legs. Yah. When Spike settles back onto the bike, his mouth comes down near my ear.   
  
So quiet I can barely hear him over the engine. "Hold on tight, Slayer." Yeah. Tight. Whoa! Holding on!   
  
He revs the engine and we zip down the street, kinda fast. It's all I can do to keep my hands on the bars. Suddenly, being this close to him seems kinda dangerous. Can feel his muscles all ripply behind me. I have this urge to turn around and rip. Tear that shirt clean off him. Slayer strength would make it a bit too easy to have him naked. Very naughty.   
  
Settle down, Buffy. Or go nuts.   
  
Whatever.  
  
I feel the cool air rush through my hair and it brings me out of my drunken haze...tipsy haze...for a minute. I want him. Real real bad. I also want to ride like this. Like being in front, feeling the wind. It's too delicious to feel that rush. I want it and him, too. Buffy want.   
  
"Spike." I speak, and he leans forward, putting his ear down closer. So, it's really totally his fault that my lips brush his earlobe. 'Cause he moved his head, see. And 'cause I had my mouth really really close to his ear. Either way, it's nice. And y'know, I noticed his lickableness before. So, I took a little lick while I was there. Um, just because...because...well, because. So, yeah, he jumped a bit more, but kept the bike steady. Once I coax my tongue back in my mouth, I finish what I was going to say.  
  
"Take me somewhere. Anywhere."   
  
It's a damn good thing I was holding onto him tight 'cause that bike nearly went down right there. I could have bounced right off it when he veered. We screech to a stop right in the middle of the street. Spike turns me as much as he can without getting off the bike and looks dead at me.   
  
So so lickable.   
  
"Slayer...Buffy. What are you playing at?"   
  
I push out my lip a bit. "Not playing. Wanna ride." I let my mouth slide into a smirk and look up at him through my lashes.   
  
"Ride?"   
  
You. You...and you know it. Or do you? Either way, yeah. You. But for now, the bike. My smile widens and I see him actually turn slightly paler. Didn't know he could do that. "Y'know, the bike. Can we ride more?" I wink.   
  
Whee! Spike guns the engine, spinning out down Main Street. I sigh, leaning back against him. This feels amazing. I turn my head towards him a bit as we reach the outskirts of town. "Is it okay if I let go?"   
  
"Yeah." That voice. So low and rumbly. Gives me thoughts. I let my hands come off the handlebars, but don't let go. I slide them up the outside of his bare arms. So much better without his coat in the way. Skin so smooth. My head lolls against his shoulder as we leave the town limits. I could live and die like this. So free. So safe. Mmm...  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
I am going to fuckin' wreck this bike. Any second. Slayer...Buffy is driving me nuts. Hot little body pressed against mine. Silky blonde hair blowing against my cheek. Scent tickling my nose, sweet and ripe. And now the hands. Hands running up my arms, turning 'em to jelly. And god, I'm just losing the ability to think straight with her warmth rushing into me. Focus on not wrecking. Do not wreck the bike. Do not...oh Jesus, she just licked my neck. Do not wreck the bike...  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
He is so very, very lickable.   
  
**************  
  
Author's Note: Thanks very much for the great feedback. I really appreciate it! Sorry for the long delay! -Tiana 


	9. Chapter 9: Just Shut Up

  
  
Chapter 9: Just Shut Up

* * *

I bet I could do it without falling off. I'm the Slayer. Yeah. She of the great coordination. Very strong, very bendy. I could do it. Plus, I've seen it on TV.   
  
"Spike." He jumps a little. Guess it's been quiet for a little while. We're outside town, cruising down the coastline. I can smell the salt.   
  
"Yeah, Slayer?" His voice is right near my ear. Makes my whole body go a little numb. I forget where I was going with...oh yeah, the coat.  
  
"I'm going to take your coat off, 'kay?" I feel the bike slowing down. "No, no! Speed back up!"   
  
"What, luv? Thought you wanted to take the coat off?" We are back at the same speed.   
  
"Yeah, but I can do it while we're moving." A low chuckle gives me goosebumps.  
  
His lips brush my ear when he replies, "You want to do it while we're moving?" Oh good God. I can just see that eyebrow cocked up. The things I say.   
  
"Yeah." I try to sound all sure of myself but it sounds like a breath. Like I'm feeling weak in the knees...which yeah, I am. He smiles back. I don't know how I know that.  
  
I can picture his smile in my mind's eye, cheekbones sharpening with that devil's grin. Humina humina. I tighten my grip on the bike with my thighs and start wriggling. After a few seconds, I get one arm free.   
  
"Yay!" I giggle, and notice Spike has gone awfully quiet. And still. Huh. I squirm out of the other arm of the duster. Knew I wouldn't fall off. Ha! I glance to the side and see Spike's arms, looking all vein-y. Looks like he's holding on kinda tight. Yup, white knuckles, too.   
  
Now for the tricky part. I lean forward, putting one hand down on the tank thingie in front of me and whip the coat out from under me with the other. Whoa, swervy! "Yipes!"

* * *

"Buffy! Damn, woman, warn me next time, eh?" She's going to get us both bloody killed. Well, hurt, at least. She's driving me mad. First with the wiggling. Then, she lifts up that tight little ass right in front of me and then, blinds me with my own coat. But did I mention the ass? Tasty morsel, that. Probably had more to do with the bike swerving than the flying duster. And now what's she gonna do?  
  
Oh-kay. She's sitting back down slowly and now I realize how little there is between us with the duster gone. Fuck. Warm, pressed up snug, smelling fantastic. And yes, right between my legs. This was a fucking fantastic idea. No, really. It was. One of my best.

* * *

Oh, this is good. Good good good. I wriggle into his lap and hear him bite back a moan. Oh yeah. But now, I've got this coat in one hand. What'm I gonna do with it? I look around, but there is nowhere to stick it. Hmm. OH! Shoulda thought of this before.   
  
"Want your coat back, Spikey?" Spikey? That's new. Not usually out loud with that one. I'll be callin' him Sweetcheeks before ya know it. 'Cause, yeah. Those cheeks are rather suh-weeet.   
  
"Sure, luv. Hold up this time, okay? Hate to end a fun evening with a close encounter with the highway." The bike slows down slightly as Spike looks for somewhere to pull over.   
  
"End? Just getting started, aren't we?" When did I have the filter removed from my mouth? Musta been sometime during that bottle o' booze at the bar. Only explanation. Oh, that, and the hotness that is Spike. I grab on tight as we hit gravel and the bike wavers.   
  
Crunching over the gravel for a minute on the bike, we end up near the top of a path that leads down to the beach. Spike has the bike steady, his legs on the ground when he kills the engine.   
  
"Wow, it's quiet. And I'm not." I drop my voice quickly. "Sorry. Now, lessee, I was gonna give you back your coat. Still want it?" Buffy, holy moley. You sooo want him.   
  
"You know I do." His voice is thick and gives me...ideas.   
  
"Hold the bike still, 'kay? Don't want to land on my butt again." Here goes nothin.' I stand up a little, feet on something on the bike. Who knows, peg thingies, I guess. With a couple of moves that would not get me a spot in the ballet, I somehow manage to get myself turned around on the bike, so I'm facing Spike. He's been real quiet-like. I look down at him from my half-standing position.   
  
Damn. Goodbye frying pan, hel-LO fire.   
  
He's staring at me. His arms have gone out to hold the handlebars on either side of me, so I'm trapped. Like an animal. And he looks hungry.   
  
Good thing I am, too. I lick my lips.   
  
"There, now I can help you put your coat..."  
  
"Sod the bloody coat, Slayer." Um, is it getting warm out here or what? His eyes are so damn intense. Insides turning to jell-o. I smile a little. Lean a little closer, nearly touching him.   
  
"Okay. I'll just put it back here." My voice, surprisingly steady. Not so drunky-poo. Though since I just thought 'drunky-poo,' I'd say I still am a bit. I drape the coat over the seat behind him. Just as I start to move back, I start to lose my balance. And then I'm still. Huh.  
  
Oh. Spike. Spike's got me. More to the point, hands of Spike holding on to my waist. Really tight. I meet his eyes, still looking down at him.  
  
"What...um, thanks. Um." Nice. Eloquent. Smooth, Buffy.  
  
He smiles and it's....well...so much for these panties. "Slayer at a loss for words. Never thought I'd see the..."   
  
Oh shut up. And by the way, fuck it. Fuck the rules and the worries and the oh no, I shouldn'ts. Mid-word, I grab his face and plant my mouth on his, tender and hard all at once. The grip of his hands threatens to crush me. I startled him. Yay me.  
  
Foreheads touching, I let up for a second and whisper, "Just shut up, Spike. Okay?"  
  
I don't let him answer, just go back in for more and...stars. I can't believe it. I'm seeing stars. Thought that only happened in movies and angsty teen ballads. His mouth is amazing. Soft soft lips, but firm. Pressing, tasting. A little tentative. God, I'm melting. I touch his mouth with my tongue and it opens. Like magic. Our tongues meet in the middle and it's like...I expect to hear music. Or like I just got something I've been asking for for years. A pony or something equally unrealistic. That's Spike. Wanting him is so unrealistic, but it doesn't make me want him less.   
  
I'm still kinda standing, so I swing one leg up and around his waist. And then the other. Thank god we are both freakishly strong and flexible. He manages to hold onto me. So damn hot. And hard. He is so hard. His chest against mine, plastered together. And yes ma'am, muscles are not the only hard thing I'm feeling.   
  
We break for air and Spike is out of breath. He that doesn't breathe is panting like he ran a marathon. "Buffy." Just says it. I feel dizzy. Can't tell if it's the booze or the kisses.   
  
"Present," I smile at him, our eyes so close together I can see flecks of the moon in his.   
  
"Can't believe I'm saying this, but luv, you've been drinking. I can't..." The pain on his face is achingly sweet. I kiss his nose. 'Cause it's right there. Then I press my fingers against his mouth, stopping the words.  
  
"Know what I'm doing. Just tipsy." I press my mouth to his lightly. Breathe the next bit right into his mouth. Making him swallow it. "Makes me brave. Makes me take what I want. What I've wanted..." I lick my lips and bring them back to his. Let my hands comes to rest on his upper arms. Ooh, biceps. And he doesn't even work out. I taste him. Faint taste of smoke and liquor. Normally not my fave thing, but on him, it works. Goes with the image, I guess. My hands squeeze, telegraphing how I want him in a code I made up just now.   
  
On the next breather, mouths almost still touching, he meets my eyes. "You're sure?" I could die in these arms. So yes.   
  
"I'm sure. Now just kiss me some more, 'kay?" I smile at him. And there's that grin I like in reply. The one I pretend to hate. Only thing I hate about it is how helpless I feel when he flashes it. How my body floods with moist warmth. Now I think it's good.   
  
And I think I'm sobering up. Even better. Now I'll remember this clearly tomorrow. Something about the closeness is making my mind focus at a dramatic rate. Slayer healing works on liquor? Weird. My fingers skate up his arms, grazing his neck and diving into his hair. Loosen those curls he tries to fight.   
  
"You got it, luv." His hands move off my hips, around my back and he pulls me back against him, crushing us together. Guess I convinced him. The next kiss sends shivers up my spine. I thought the first ones were good. This one makes me want to cry, it is so tender. So so...god, I...he loves me. I believe him so much now. I knew he did and he shows it in a million little ways, but I've never felt it cover my skin like this. Like warmth, like safety. I've never let him really show me.   
  
Until now.   
  
======================  
  
Author's Note: I'm back! Hope some people still remember this story. Reviews are welcomed with open arms. :) Tiana 


	10. Chapter 10: Get Off

  
  
Chapter 10: Get Off  
  
God, I hope she doesn't stop. Couldn't bear it if she stopped. And it better not be the booze talking. I want Buffy fully present, in my arms and really truly here. Vixen - she's squirming against me and not quite accidentally. Damn good thing I don't breathe 'cause I'd be holding it right about now. Sod it all, she makes me want to write poetry again. Zero to full-on ponce in ten seconds. She's that bloody good. These kisses put those under-Red's-spell kisses to shame. These are real kisses, better than I dreamed they would be. Oh yeah, nancy boy present and accounted for.   
  
=======================  
  
Oh YEAH. Mmm. This is...I'm having trouble with...words. Yeah, that's what they are called. Words. And hello, hands in new and exciting places. Spike's hands slide up my back and under my shirt and I shiver. Cool hands, bare skin and yes, good shivers. Very good. I tighten my legs around his waist and hear him moan. Moan! Good god. My whole body is tingling and I don't know if I can balance myself in this precarious position much longer.   
  
"Must get off." I manage to mutter between deep, long kisses. I hear a chuckle, which vibrates through me since we are connected over about half our bodies.   
  
His voice is extra deep and rumbly and I almost fall off the bike just then, gravel or not. "Thought that was the idea, luv?" OH! You! With the double meanings...and the sassy, sexy talk. Yes, sexy. Hm, somehow the numbness moving from my toes up towards my brain is not concerned with him mouthing off. Only with the other things his mouth is doing. My turn to moan. Lips on neck. Sucking, kissing, licking. I tilt my head to the side, to be helpful, you know. Try to talk again.  
  
"Off the bike, Spike." That rhymed. Hee. "'fraid I'm gonna fall..."   
  
With a movement both incredibly fast and steady, Spike drops the kickstand, tightens his grip around my back and pulls us both off the bike. All the way, still kissing my neck. He is a god. An undead, neck-kissing, drop-dead gorgeous god. God of Sexy. That's his domain. Hmm. I think I'm rambling. And yes, still in the land of tipsy. Back to the point.  
  
Which would be the kissing. I'm still wrapped around his waist as he holds me. He turns and sits my butt on the edge of the bike seat. I don't let go of his waist, my ankles crossed behind him. On that tight little butt o' his. I grab his face in my hands and pull him off my neck (hard choice) and bring those tasty lips back on mine. It can't get better, but it does. Soft kisses, brushing my lips. Asking, then demanding, then back to asking. How does he do that?   
  
I would like to be so much less vertical at this point. If the hard bulge rubbing against me is any indication, so would he. I can't believe this. I'm not scared. Not worried. Incredibly turned on, about to strip him naked on the side of the road, yes. But not worried. I want him and I'm having him. Dammit.   
  
But where? Side of the road. Bad. Gravel. Very ouch-y. Beach! Stroke of brilliance. All soft and sandy and...mmmm. Train of thought broken by hands in even new and more exciting places. I can do that, too! I grab the edge of his t-shirt, quickly pulling it up and out of the front of his pants. Quick as a bunny, my hands are under the soft fabric on his un-fuckin'-believable abs. I remember them well from our first trip on the bike. Mmm. Does he work out? But he's undead. I don't get it, but I don't care. Ripped, with skin smooth and tight. Dragging my fingernails slowly up the muscle-y goodness gets a very good response. He nips my lip in his excitement and I wonder if he just went all fang-y on me for a second. And I wonder if I should get quite this hot thinking about the possibility... The light taste of blood in my mouth doesn't do much for me, but if the reaction from Spike is any indication, it's working some major league mojo on him. I do believe I just heard...a growl?   
  
Alright, mate. Calm down. Not good to bite the Slayer. Or growl at her. As fucking hot as she is and as fucking good as it would taste, it would also be the last thing I'd ever do. Drunk or no, she could still stake me right now. If I...lose control, she should. Girl's been through quite enough without me mucking it up. Only...god, her blood, just the tiniest taste, is...well, the best aphrodisiac I've ever tried. And I've tried a few...  
  
It was a growl. Oh crap, that's hot. I know, I know. I shouldn't think so, but I'm turning him all crazy-like. That's good for a gal's ego. Not that I want him to bite me, but a little itty bitty taste of my Slayer blood is not gonna hurt me and hey, my lip is already bleeding a bit. Convenient. I keep kissing him, knowing he is getting a bit from my cut lip. Another moan. I let my fingers do the walking, dancing up and 'round his nipples. A flick here, a flick there and the hands already under my shirt clench. Tee hee. His hands come up further to cup my breasts, thumbs tweaking the nipples. My body heat is coming up on supernova, so the feel of his cool hands on me is nothing short of mind-blowing. And yow, sensitive skin, y'know? The smooth path of those hands around my breasts and now down and around my spine is leaving trails of coolness. I'm all goosebump-y instantly.   
  
"Like that, luv?" When did his mouth get near my ear? There's a tremor in it that sends a shock down my spine.  
  
Ohh. That's nice. "Yeah. That's nice." Boy, not much disconnect from thought to mouth at the mo'. Oh oh OH. Spike is sucking on my ear lobe while his hands are...my whole body is melting here. Having trouble with clear... oh dear. I pull my hands out of his shirt. Not sure how long I can do this without puddling on the ground. Grab his head in my hands and pull it in front of mine. His mouth, slightly open, eyes dark and deep, hair a mess. He's just...I'm just...it's just... What the hell have I been waiting for? When's the last time someone looked at me like that? Somewhere between yesterday and never?   
  
"What is it, Buffy?" I close my eyes for a second as his voice goes through me like a freight train. So deep. Vibrating my bones somehow. Opening my eyes back up, I meet Spike's and feel that familiar warmth in my belly send waves out to the rest of me, particularly to some low-down good spots. If I had not already passed the point of no return, I've just made the final turn.   
  
I lick my lips and watch him watching me do it. I let go of his face and let my hands drift down his chest. Slowly. Very slowly. He keeps studying me quietly. Huh. His chest is heaving, he's breathing heavily. But he doesn't breathe? There are things about Spike...still more human than some folks I know. My hands continue down, I flick my eyes down to them for a second and then back to Spike's eyes as they reach his belt. I stop there and see his eyes widen. Just a bit. Just enough.   
  
It makes me smile. I am rewarded with one from him. Lopsided and so freakin' sexy. Tucking my fingers just inside the belt, feeling his soft skin there, I lean my body towards him. I tighten the legs that have loosened during our make out session, drawing him closer. I tug a little on his belt, making him move closer still. His hands are now resting on my thighs. I can feel every finger. Can feel what I would like every finger to do to me in the near future. I get him to lean his face within a few inches of mine without saying a word.  
  
"Spike," Lick lips. "I want you." My voice can be all low and sexy, too. It totally works. I see his Adam's apple bob as he swallows quickly. His mouth opens and I nod my head. "Yes, like that. And yes, now."   
  
"Now?" His voice is surprised to say the least. Guess he wasn't sure how far I wanted to go. Far, that's how far. I want to go way far...  
  
I nod.  
  
"Here?" He looks around, frowning.  
  
I gesture toward the beach with my head. "There."   
  
And there it is. That ever so slow grin. He bites his bottom lip and I feel my legs go numb. And he leans in, takes another kiss, snatching my bottom lip with his teeth. Grabs it quick. Then another kiss, and another...and then I lose count. It's a blur of mouths and tongues and hands for the next few minutes. Suddenly, I feel myself being lifted from the bike again. My legs slip down and my feet hit the ground for the first time in awhile. Spike has me pinned between the bike and well, him. Can't decide which is harder. I rub against him, trying to decide. We stop kissing and I feel Spike's hand wrap around mine, fingers lacing tightly. A little smile and a tug and we're away. I see that he grabbed his duster with the other hand as we turn towards the little path down to the beach.  
  
The path is downhill and a bit tricky by moonlight. I nearly slip several times, but Spike never lets go of my hand and keeps us going. Guess he's got that creature of the night super vision thing working for him. We push through the shrubs and stumble down the sandy path. Right as we hit the bottom and I think my heart is going to burst from my chest in anticipation, I catch my foot on a root and pitch forwards. Next thing I know, I land on the ground, only wait. Not the ground. Spike. I land on Spike. Convenient. Was planning on doing that in a minute, anyway.  
  
"All you had to do was ask, pet." I see him smile at me in the half light. He is flat on his back in the sand and I am sprawled on him. Yum. Thank goodness for vamp reaction speed, I think. He must have caught me as I fell. Booze is fiddling with my slayer skills, that must be it. Otherwise, I am usually the picture of grace. Okay, sort of.   
  
"Actually, I tripped, but it seems to have worked out okay." I shimmy up him a little and feel his whole body twitch. Mm yeah.   
  
"Just okay?" Hands. On my butt. Now, that's a firm grip.  
  
My eyes widen as he grinds my hips into his. Damn, good things come in large packages!   
  
"Much,"   
  
My lips brush his, lighter than a little harder.   
  
"Much,"   
  
My tongue dances across his bottom lip.   
  
"Much better than okay." I could kiss these lips for days. Everything feels like it is slowing down. All I can hear outside our breathing is the ocean. No other distractions. It's the closest I've felt to peace since I came back to life. I've wanted to be in his arms since that first night I came to see him in his crypt. I didn't know it then, I just knew I wanted to be around him. I haven't admitted that to anyone, not even myself, but now that I am here in those arms, it's everything I thought it would be. Safe and secure and really really hot. Strong arms, soft eyes, love - oh, there is love here. And it is of the good. The very good.  
  
And I want more.   
  
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Author's Note: Not so long between updates this time, folks! Thanks for the great reviews on the last chapter - that was really wonderful! Hope you like this one, too. This fic is nominated for two awards at Spuffy Awards (and I'm nominated for Best Author) and they are decided by votes, so if you are so inclined, google for Spuffy Awards and go vote ( I can't post URLs here in ff.net!) Thanks! :) Tiana 


	11. Chapter 11: Slow and Easy?

  
  
Chapter 11: Slow and Easy?  
  
So, am I going to...get naked with Spike? I am, aren't I? Holy moley. This is huge. Huge, I say. Speaking of huge, damn. How does he fit that in those jeans? I grind against him one more time to confirm. Hello, he is very happy to see me! And yeah, I'm pretty darn happy to see him, too.   
  
Between kisses, he is trying to talk. "Mm. Buffy. Oh Buffy. Buffy! Wait." What? Waiting? There is no waiting. This is an express lane, no waiting.   
  
I bite his bottom lip, dragging it slowly through my teeth before releasing it. "Wait for what?" I slip one hand between us, grazing his straining erection through his pants. He doesn't feel like he needs to wait. Or wants to, for that matter. His sharp intake of breath tells me he agrees.  
  
"Over...over there. We can..." Hm. I wonder why he can't talk so good. Maybe my mouth on his neck? Might be distracting.   
  
I stop, for just a second, and look into his eyes. "Yes?"   
  
Breathing hard, he answers. "Let's just head over there. Okay, luv?" I glance where he is looking, see a big tree overhanging the beach.   
  
I push my bottom lip out a little bit. "Don't wanna wait."  
  
He sits up, pushes my hair behind my shoulders gently as I straddle him. "Buffy, luv, I don't want our first time to be down here in the bushes."  
  
Oh my god. Fucking drop dead sexy AND romantic. I could eat him up. And I will. Over there.  
  
I stand up and I see this weird flicker of what I think is fear in his eyes. Damn, did I do that to him? I stick my hand out to him and give him a little smile, happy to see that flicker turn back into flame. His hand slips into mine and he is on his feet, pressed hard against me in a flash. In the next moment, we are moving, my feet nearly off the ground. Damn, if he moved this quick when we were fighting, he might have done me in years ago.   
  
Under the shade of the tree, the moonlight dapples through the leaves and I realize why he wanted to be here. It's beautiful. Ooh. Hands. Oh, and lips. Spike comes up behind me, his fingers running up my spine, his lips dancing across my neck. He's gone so quiet, so gentle. I hardly knew there was a part of him like this. I hardly knew because I didn't want to. Before. Now, a whole 'nother story.   
  
She cannot possibly know what she is doing to me. Top to toe, all I want to do is grab her and not let go. Not ever. Yeah, don't say that out loud, mate. That would send her running pretty fast. Can't believe I was able to hold back over there, but there is no bloody way we are going to make this into something secret and sordid. I soddin' love her. Love her and can't stand to see her sad and hurting. If I can help, I'm going to do it. This spot here is better. Beautiful, even. Maybe it's not as good as some soft bed but it's ours. Our time. Out here in the dark, the night. Where we both live, thrive. No interruptions, no bloody Scoobies, no worries. Just Buffy. Me and Buffy. I can feel her eyes on me. God, I want her.   
  
He moves away. Hey! Oh. I turn to see he is spreading out his duster on the ground, smoothing it down on the sand. He stands up and faces me and I bite my lip. God. This man. Spike. He is steady and careful...and loving. There is much to him no one else knows. Maybe that's why I keep him to myself? Why I seek him? Something of my own. I've come to realize, a bit late, that all the things he does for me are coming from this deep love. It's all right there if you look. In his eyes, in the way he cares for me, protects me, listens to me. The way he waited for me, though he didn't know I was coming back to life. I've fallen silent and still, too, and it is like I am really alive again. My senses sharpen to a razor edge. The salt air burns my nose. The breeze moving the branches tickles my skin. The murmur of the ocean fills my ears. The harsh edges of my new life don't cut me around him. It feels like living again to want someone and have them want me. So damn much. Before I can hit the Buffy edit button, I blurt it out, voice soft. "Spike, you make me feel alive again." I shake my head. "Sorry, that came out kind of sappy, but I feel - " My voice fails me. Since when did my emotions come gushing out like this? Is it the eyes? The way they search mine? The way his hands twitch to touch me?  
  
He quiets me, as he has been doing so much lately. Quiets the competing voices and harsh realities in my head. "It's okay, pet. You do the same for me." He smiles as I take in what he is saying. Whoa. I make him feel alive? That is...wow.   
  
He steps closer, into my space. A hand comes up slowly and grazes my cheek. His voice is just a low rumble, deep and thick. "I'll just ask once more, luv. Are you sure?" With those eyes, I'm going to say no? And I want it. Oh god, I want it. It may have taken a bottle or more of whiskey to loosen me to the point I could admit it, but it's been there. Buried under worry and questions and...that's out the window. I've got a man who loves me, standing right here.   
  
"Very sure. Sure as...I'm sure." I smile. I can't even pun, I feel so overwhelmed. My throat tight. Right as I finish speaking, he moves in fast, mouth to mine, hands on my cheeks. OH. Another knee-wobbling one.   
  
Time swings from slow motion to fast forward in the blink of an eye. Spike's hands are inside my shirt, pushing, pushing. I reluctantly break our kiss so it can go over my head. I grab at his t-shirt, desperate to see him. To trace the muscles I've been groping all night. He whips the shirt off and throws it down and I take a sharp breath. His skin glows blue silver in the moonlight, smooth and hard and oh my. I drag my fingers down the hills and valleys of his chest, letting the nails catch every few inches. He tenses his body and I watch with satisfaction as his muscles twitch and shift. A man should not be so beautiful. His hand slides under one bra strap, pushing it down my arm, his mouth following, licking a trail from my neck to my shoulder and down. My nipples go tight and my fingers tense against him, nails digging in briefly. My whole body feels like it is covered with an electric field, humming. Little zaps whenever he breaks through it.   
  
A hand on my back lightly and my bra is coming off. Damn, he is good with his hands. Very good. I shiver as my bare torso meets the night air and feel goosebumps cover my exposed skin. Spike rubs his hands up and down my arms.   
  
"Cold, pet?" He catches his bottom lip in his teeth and I want to drop him to the ground with a kicky Slayer move. I don't think that would be very romantic, though. I can't take much more waiting and looking. I need to touch him. Lots.   
  
"No, I'm good." I inch a little closer, trying to eliminate those last pesky inches between us. I know his skin is going to feel as good as it looks against mine.   
  
"Better than good. Perfect."   
  
Okay, officially turning into big girly puddle at this point. One hand moves up to trail down my cheek, neck, my chest. So light, so soft. I shiver again, but it has nothing to do with being cold. More like hot. Getting very warm out here, I'd say. "Not so bad yourself." That's it. I can't take slow and gentle anymore. He wants to take it slow, but I just flat out want it. Want him. And oh, right about inow/i. "Spike?"   
  
"Yes, luv?" I answer with a biting kiss and finally, god, finally get my body up against his. The hard planes of his chest, cool to the touch, crush my breasts. And it's good.  
  
Jesus fucking Christ. I'm done. So much for slow and easy. Slayer is a vixen. Who knew it? Well, I hoped for it, but I didn't know it. Her body is so bleedin' soft and taut all at once. Sun-kissed, can tell that even in the moonlight. She nearly damn glows out here, radiant skin and eyes and hair. And the way she is looking at me. Swear I felt my heart move. Know I felt something else move. Maybe we could do slow and easy the next time? 'Cause there better damn well be a next time. I'm not planning on letting her go, that's for soddin' certain.  
  
Yeah, it's time for the sweeping kick. Gotta get him to the ground soon. I break from his lips with a breath and lock into his eyes, dark and deep in the night air. "Maybe we could try for easy listening, soft and gentle on our second time?" I grin my most evil grin as my hands go for his jeans, unfastening them quickly. My hand slides in, and finds him hard and oh, what a surprise, no underwear. He jumps on contact and then I see that twinkle in his eyes that always gets my panties in a twist.   
  
Cocks his head to the side and looks down at me. I think he agrees with my idea. "Second time, eh?"   
  
I nod. Then, a blur of skin and platinum hair. Okay, what the...?! I'm the freakin' Slayer and somehow in the space of seconds, I find myself flat on the ground with a vampire hovering over me. Again, if he just put his mind to it like tonight, he could have had me for a snack two years ago! So wicked fast. I wiggle a little, figuring out the cool sensation - oh, it's the leather. I'm on his duster. Nice. Spike leans over me, his tongue curled around his front teeth as his hand quickly trails down my chest to my jeans. I let my eyes close for a second, starting when his lips come down on mine. Soft at first, but firm, forceful. There's my Spike. Now that I know he can kiss like this, I crave it. I press up into him, my tongue coming out to meet his, deeper and deeper. Somewhere down below, I feel him working my jeans off. Again with the nimble. Doesn't miss a beat. Breaks the kiss long enough to completely whisk them off along with the previously mentioned panties and I know my whole body is bare to him. And I like it. So much for modesty. I squirm a little, wanting him on me, his hands moving over me. Faster, I say! And as usual, he reads my mind. His kisses move off my lips to my neck, my collarbone and then oh oh OH. Takes one nipple between his teeth and teases it with his tongue. My back arches off the ground and a moan rolls out of me. At the same moment, his fingers dip between my legs and I feel them slide into me, one, then two. I'm so damn wet. I bite my lip, the moan growing in volume. I'm going to come right here and he's not even naked yet. Totally unfair.   
  
Hell's bells, I am the Slayer, after all. I cock my leg around his waist and twist. Hard. Yah! Before the poor boy knows what hit him, I'm on top. I pull up a bit, though I really want to ride his hand into oblivion. First, the jeans. Spike gasps, recovering from our little spin and I hear the low chuckle that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. A soft voice, just audible above the sound of the waves rolls to me. "That's my Buffy."  
  
And ooh, I think I am. I think I am his Buffy. With that thought pinging around in my head, I finally get those jeans completely undone and make quick work of them. Ah. And good goddamn. Quite a specimen. Maybe that Spike nickname came from something other than his love of railroad spikes. I can just about hear his ego inflating as I give him the once and twice-over. Before he can say something sassy, I slide up his body, covering him with me. His hand is on my breast, kneading the flesh and it makes my hips twitch in anticipation.   
  
I lick my lips as I quickly drop down, giving the tip a little lick. Just a taste. Mm. Every muscle in his tight body contracts and again, the voice surges to me. "Bloody hell, woman. Come here."   
  
I can do that. His hands on my cheeks as Spike pulls me to him, face to face. Not touching, just looking. I feel his erection brush against my stomach. With a quick adjustment of my hips, I can feel him. Just there. On the verge. I pause, meeting his eyes. The moonlight catches them and I know it's right. This is it. The moment this whole night has been building towards. His hands move from my face to my hips as I take him in, slowly sinking down. Oh. Yes, big as it looks. I take a deep breath as he moves into me, slow and steady. Halfway down, I get, um, impatient and just go all the way home. We both gasp and freeze as our bodies completely join. Eyes locked in, I see Spike recover, the spark in his eyes making my mouth go dry.   
  
I can't believe I waited this long for something that feels this good. It can't get better.   
  
That is, until he starts to move.   
  
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Author's Note: Sorry for a bit of a delay! Hope you enjoy this new chapter. Reviews are most welcome. Thanks. Tiana :) 


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